Determined To Hold
by magusta68
Summary: A continuation/sequel to my story Unconquered. More crimes to solve and more of the teams emotional journey from A to B.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

A/N: THIS IS A SEQUEL TO MY STORY UNCONQUERED.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Prologue

Tony DiNozzo tried shaking the grimy guy off his leg while he held firmly onto another around the waist and lifted him off his feet. Where was his partner when he needed him? The third perp, the ringleader, tried scrabbling away on all fours and was making good headway towards the red pistol lying in the grass. Tony managed to free his leg from Grimy who lost his balance and went down to the ground in a patch of dirt while the one he had around the waist, who was the oldest, head butted him and kicked him in his...sensitive body part then bit down on his hand with two of the five teeth he had in his mouth...that really hurt.

He'd started his shift of guard duty at the behest of the FBI and lousy Fornell's, it'll just be a couple hours of your time, DiNozzo, surely you can do this after all I've done for you, blackmailing spiel. It didn't matter he was tired from being up half the night at work with Jethro the silent-and-grim Gibbs, McZzzzless and Ziva David. And only just allowed to go home after their brutal case was finally solved.

And now, all his energy was depleted after spending the evening hours watching these three with their intent to harm instead of getting his well-earned, god-given right to blissful unconsciousness sleep.

Tony was losing this battle. He knew it, they knew it. He was bruised and beaten and had been betrayed by his partner and left to deal on his own. Just then, the ringleader, who had been racing for the red pistol had reached his goal and as he turned to fire, Tony lunged at him with the last of his waning adrenaline strength and reached for the Ringleader's arm just as the pistol came around and smacked him in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warning: This is AU alternate universe and a continuation of my story Unconquered.

A/N: An ode to steadfast Fan Fiction writers everywhere

Triumph

Go thru life from start to finish

Have a bite, ride a bike

Breathe the air, declare

Life is livable

Glean the mind, write some words

Some enjoy, few implore

Write some more, please

Un-resist-able

Go thru life, start to finish

Write, excite, delight, share

Spurn dissension and craftily aired

Anonymous objections, beware

Ig-nor-able

By Magusta68 8/2015

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter One, Tongue in Cheek

Previously on NCIS

Tony lunged at him with the last of his waning adrenaline strength and reached for the Ringleader's arm just as the pistol came around and smacked him in the face.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Twelve hours later, morning.

"Well look what the feline dragged in," started Ziva snippily as she watched DiNozzo saunter in from the elevator and take his seat. No matter how many times she was told she always got it wrong and the clue finally sunk in to some of them that she used the wrong words on purpose.

"Good morning, Boss, Ziva," greeted Tony. He ignored Tim as he turned on his computer and started reading his email.

"You're almost late," noted Gibbs not looking away from a file he was reading.

When McGee opened his mouth to speak Tony raised his hand in warning without turning around.

"There's no reason other than work related dialogue that needs to be spoken between the two of us, McForked-tongue."

"Fine with me," stated McGee as he went back to blowing in his cup before taking a sip of coffee. His laconic reply suggested a total lack of interest in the subject.

Aw crap, what now? Gibbs, sensing a pending disturbance, bemoaned the loss of quiet as he looked up from his reading material to peruse his junior agents. When he got his first look at DiNozzo who had turned to glare at McGee, Gibbs called out in surprise.

"What in the blazes happened to your face, DiNozzo?"

Tony involuntary raised his bandaged hand to his right eye than winced in pain. "Oh, this? Ran into a door?" he flippantly replied and grinned at the three staring faces.

"Looks like a fist shaped door to me, Tony. You've got some shiner going." McGee had gotten up to get a better look.

"Yeah, well, what do you know? Just back off, McFraudulant."

"Hey!" complained McGee, "Quit with the name calling. I..."

Gibbs interrupted Tim before he could start to whine. "DiNozzo, what happened? Your face, your hand? Do we need to follow up on an assault of a Federal agent?" Tony knew Gibbs wouldn't drop the subject until he got a satisfactory answer, which McGee happily supplied.

"He was babysitting, Gibbs," blurted McGee with a touch of gleeful humor.

"Babysitting?" Gibbs knew he should have gone for coffee.

"Yes, I was babysitting if you must know and on my own time so not undercover, Boss, I know that's what you're thinking. And thanks, McGee, for showing up and all the help you..."

"Tony, for the tenth time, I told you I already had other plans that I probably couldn't get out of. Sarah was...she...well you know Sarah."

"Were you running away from an irate boyfriend, Tony?" Ziva rudely interrupted McGee's sputtering as she sat at her desk smoothly in control.

"Ziva," he countered, "you know I don't swing that way since you maintain such a close watch on my, ahem, extracurricular activities.

McGee snickered, which got another glare from Tony. "What are you laughing at, McPhony?"

"That is not what I meant, Tony." Ziva interrupted, highly indignant that he had done it again and caught her off guard; misconstruing her words into something obscene as though she cared about what he did in his bedroom or more likely his bimbos' bedrooms.

Gibbs watched as Tony, the master of deflection, worked his magic and the other agents forgot the bruised face and band-aided hand as they dissolved in outrage at his mocking words and tease aimed at them. But he wasn't fooled, what was Tony hiding now? Gibbs decided to wait for a private moment to attempt to get the whole story. Right now, a coffee run was his objective since there was no threat of a pending enemy attack, just DiNozzo and his usual shenanigans...babysitting damage, really, Dinozzo?

As Gibbs left the office he overheard McGee continue to badger Tony and he just shook his head as he beat his retreat.

"Which one did that to you, Tony?" asked McGee pointing to his discolored cheek.

"If you had been there it wouldn't have happened but I'll tell you anyway, Mc...Whatever. Ringleader had the honor of whacking me in the face and Escape Artist bit the hand."

Tony smiled at the memory, those little guys were so cute in their baby-ness, energetic antics even though he always seemed to inadvertently get in the way of a thrown foreign object or get chewed on by painfully erupting baby teeth.

"Are you serious?" Came Ziva's strident, disapproving voice. "Ringleader, Escape Artist? Tony, are you working an undercover ops again?" 'Without telling us' was not spoken out loud but heard anyway in her tone.

"You might say that Ziva but then again, probably not."

"Well, what does that mean? What is it, Tony, yes or not?" Ziva was holding onto her temper with care. Tony knew she did not like being kept out of the loop especially when she thought she might have been a better fit and not only was she kept out of the loop but Tim seemed to know all about the operation and even an always suspicious Gibbs appeared unconcerned.

Tim looked at the senior agent with a frown. It was the beginning of the week after a nice weekend off, well possibly except for Tony's, couldn't they all just get along?

"Tony, why don't you tell Ziva what you were really doing."

"I WAS BABYSITTING!" Tony emphasized again in exasperation. He didn't elaborate further, just turned back to his computer hoping the subject was closed. Ziva's stormy look he could sense behind his back indicated otherwise.

Tim knew Ziva wouldn't let it go. It seemed her aim in life recently was to pester Tony to death for a reaction. "He really was babysitting and guarding a set of triplets, Ziva. Lonnie, Ronnie and Donnie Vigil, the FBI Director's thirteen-month-old great grandnephews. They seemed to have taken a shine to Tony from the last time he babysat."

"The last time he babysat? You are kidding me, no? I know you must be lying, who in their right mental processes would allow Tony who acts like a ranchy child himself to babysit three small children especially not the FBI Director or the Governor, or next it will be the president, himself. Ha!" She laughed derisively.

"I think you mean raunchy, Ziva, and that's kind of disgusting putting raunchy and child in the same sentence that way, it's..."

"It would be better for you if you remain quiet, McGee!"

"Careful, David." Tony warned her off still not looking away from his computer. Whatever was going on with her was between him and her. Leave McGee out of it.

"What, Tony? We are just having a normal conversation, are we not? The kind that you like filled with meaningless words and rabidity with x-rated movie references and immature jokes of women's acrobatics from an iron bar. What is wrong with that?"

Tony turned around and shared an amazed, confused look with Tim.

"What?! What have I said wrong this time?" asked the annoyed female Agent.

Tony recovered first.

"Rabidity? Are you saying I have rabies of the mouth, Ziva?"

"Hardly, Tony," McGee scoffed. "I think she means ribaldry."

McGee then turned to Ziva correcting her without thinking of the consequences. "I think what you also meant to say, Ziva, was pole dancing rather than acrobatics from an iron bar although in the literal sense, it could be considered acrobatics and an iron bar could be in use though usually it's stainless steel or sometimes even aluminum mixed with copper for the color..."

Disbelieving looks from the other two agents had Tim reconsidering what he had just said especially when Tony got that mischievous twinkling look of future teasing ammunition in his eyes. Tim hastened for damage control seeing his future beset with pole dancer trinkets showing up on his desk in a daily reminder of DiNozzo's crazy ribald humor.

"Not that I engaged in pole dancing or watch it myself...Look, I did a paper on the benefits of steel versus..."

Ziva interrupted him in sour annoyance. "I know what I meant to say, Tim, and I have told you before, your bad habit of correcting my English is not appreciated!"

"Sorry, Ziva. I meant no offense."

Before McGee could turn away, however, Ziva's curiosity got the better of her and she asked begrudgingly, "This ribaldry? What does it mean, Tim?"

Tony advised her with a mocking grin, "Look it up, Ziva," and she turned away with a huff.

He knew she was taking a class on understanding the idiosyncrasies of the English language and looking the word up would distract her. His mission to redirect would be accomplished and the subject of his injuries downplayed and dropped. Except McGee surprised him and wouldn't let it go.

"I'm sorry you got hurt, Tony, but look, you're acting childish. I told you that I probably could not help you this weekend, you know Sarah, she'd kill me if I didn't show and I'm more afraid of my sister than I am of you," Tim joked but he was somewhat serious, too.

Tony didn't see the humor. "McGee, don't lecture me," cautioned Tony, "cause the shoe may be on the other foot someday. You weren't there! You should have been but you weren't. I couldn't keep them corralled by myself, they were all over the place. Have you ever seen a jungle gym monkey bar in the playground? Well, that was me. I was climbed over, under and above and beyond. Even little Grimy, who I thought was my friend, dragged me around just because he's the only one who figured out how to get up on his two hind legs and toddles and falls all over the place."

Tim rolled his eyes and couldn't help laughing as he listened to woebegone Tony as he played up his ridiculous tale.

"His two hind legs? Tony, come on, he's not a baby animal and they're just a year old, how hard could it be? Admit it, you love the little guys.

"Your point, McGee? And they're thirteen months not twelve and a few months premature so that extra month makes a big difference in their motor activities. And yeah, I love the little triplet guys, I love the triplet mother, I even have an abiding affection for the triplet father but...I got gnawed on with some sharp little pointy teeth, spit up on, kicked in the groin and whacked in the head with a toy plastic gun and changed so many poopy diapers that I can still smell the odor under my fingernails. So, just keep your unsolicited, and wrong, opinions to yourself, Mc..."

"'RIBALD," Ziva interrupted triumphantly as she read the meaning of the word from her online dictionary.

"'Referring to sexual matters in an amusingly rude or irreverent way.' I take it back, McGee, and thank you, this is the correct word." She felt more than justified in her observations.

"That is exactly why I do not believe anyone would allow Tony to babysit an infant much less three infants, therefore, you are lying, Tony. Admit you escorted the homely niece and we will let it drop."

Tony just raised his brow, shrugged and turned away shaking his head. He was not in the mood for any more hassling or haggling from her in the office or out of it for that matter. A few months ago Gibbs had been in MTAC and had sent the three of them on a case. Ziva had made the mistake of haranguing him in the field regarding his decision to send her back with evidence. He had cut her off sharply by abruptly walking away but later in the docking area back at the navy yard things had come to a head.

"When I give you an order and Gibbs is not here, it's your duty to follow it. That's part of your job description, Ziva, or have you forgotten?"

"Your order was redi..." She tried interrupting.

"Therefore, I am issuing you your one and only verbal warning to not let it happen again because the next step will be a written reproof to go into your permanent record and you know what that means."

"Yes, I know what it means, Tony!" she said nastily. "I could lose my job and that is just what you want, is it not? So afraid that I will bypass you in your abilities to..."

"You're a broken record, Ziva. You've been warned." And he again turned his back and walked away.

Since then things had been strained between them more than ever but they managed to keep the friction under the wire with the appearance of a strong team and Gibbs was pacified with their continued success at solving cases.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tim didn't get what was going on with these two. The team had hit its stride in solving cases, Gibbs appeared... not unsatisfied, and things should have settled down from their stormy beginnings. And yet. He watched Tony in perplexing silence go back to tapping at his computer and Ziva frowning in frustration at Tony's lack of response, what was he missing that kept the two of them at such odds?

Tim didn't have a clue but Tony had his reasons. He'd toned down his teasing especially with Ziva and he bent over backwards to maintain professionalism and not get in a haggling match with her over personal things or who was right or wrong on worldly matters, still, it seemed, she did everything she could to argue a point. She could get in her snipes but at least now she knew better than to do it in the field.

He had made it a point not to share every hour of his life with his teammates and what he did on his off duty hours away from the office was none of their business. Tony had made the mistake of getting overly friendly with some he worked with in the past and had been badly burned for his efforts so in the six months he'd been Gibbs' SFA, he and his teammates were still mostly just coworkers and had their own lives outside of work and that's the way he liked it.

As far as any outside interaction with the Boss, there was an occasional cowboy steak dinner and beer at Gibbs' house where they talked mostly shop, nothing personal. After showing up at Gibbs' house six-months ago in one of his more stupider inebriated moments and spilling his guts about fathers, chain-sawed pianos and ruined water-sports careers to, he was sure, an un-captivated audience of one, he was determined to not embarrass himself or Gibbs again in his maudlin sloppy reminiscence. So duty and job were always first order of business and what they talked about.

It had taken a while but the optimism he had felt in that basement seemed to have bore fruit with Abby. They had talked a little bit, shared some common interests and she had apologized for jumping to conclusions about him and he had said sorry for being a smart mouth to her. They had gone clubbing together, not as often as she would like but a couple of times until he felt less wary of her.

What had surprised Tony the most, though, was that he and McGee in spite of being as different as night and day had managed to form a budding friendship and spent time together outside of work when they didn't have dates or other commitments. They found themselves working out at the same gym and doing swimming laps together, an occasional pick-up game of basketball though McKlutzy was really bad at it, a movie marathon night with Abby or a video game challenge that took up most of the evening were some of the things they had done together and were still doing.

Tim and Tony's private thoughts were interrupted when after a few minutes of welcome silence, Ziva got up from her chair to casually approach Tony. Obviously, she just couldn't let it go.

"If you were in fact babysitting, Tony, you could have asked me. Since you asked Tim and he was not available, I would have welcomed helping to take care of the little ones."

Surprised, Tony looked up at Ziva and thought she almost sounded as though her feelings were hurt that she had been excluded but was that also accusation in her voice that she had been left out?

Feelings hurt from being excluded? He didn't believe that for a minute. Accusation for overlooking her help, oh yeah!

Tony groaned loudly. "Thank you, Ziva, for the offer and I'll keep it in mind if there's a next time, but, now, can we let it go at that and get back to work?"

"This is about the dinner I left you out of, is it not?" Ziva spoke softly to avoid others, even McGee, from hearing her taunting words and smirked triumphantly when she saw the wince quickly hidden. At least she had gotten under his skin by causing him the ignominy of supposedly being unwanted and un-missed at that dinner.

Ziva thought back to how she had given the others the impression that she could not reach him by phone to invite him to dinner and the others had believed her but of course that was a lie. She had deliberately left him out and the others seemed to enjoy themselves even though he wasn't there. Now, she didn't know what galled her more, Tony's lack of reaction and apparent disinterest or that he had said nothing to her about it and seemed unaffected by what some would refer to as her deviousness but she was fighting for her survival and her place on the team.

Deep down, she knew that most of the tension between them was still that issue of her involvement with his father. Nothing seemed to thaw that coolness and since he wasn't reacting to her subtle sexual advances or sometimes more overt ones, her only alternative was to try and make him feel alienated and apart from the team and giving her the opportunity to become closer to Gibbs and McGee along with Abby, Ducky and Palmer.

Tony's voice rose in phony shocked surprise. "Dinner? What dinner?" He looked around Ziva to address Tim. "McGee, do you know anything about a dinner that I wasn't invited to attend?"

"Noo...ooo." Tim answered sounding puzzled. "I don't think...wait, are you talking about Ziva's dinner party last month, you weren't invited? She told us you declined her invitation, prior commitment you couldn't break...just like the one I couldn't break, by the way." He had to throw that in.

"Nope, didn't decline, wasn't invited."

"You weren't invited? Oh." McGee cautiously replied. Tony didn't sound upset and not even the slightest degree of petulance had crept into his voice but was he hiding hurt feelings? Tim looked over at Ziva kind of sadly. What was there to say? He and the others had taken her at face value and believed her lie. They had had a great time and the food was good but one member was missing and missed. McGee was stumped for words. Was that bit of spitefulness on Ziva's part the reason for the animosity between the two of them?

No, that alienation had begun long before last month's dinner.

Ziva noted the pity call from McGee and didn't like it. She did not need his pity. What was he pitying her for? She hadn't meant for Tony to blurt it out like that, it was to remain their secret. Again, she had blundered by bringing it up in the first place but Tony angered her so much that sometimes she didn't know what she was saying. She was failing to uphold her Mossad training.

"You feel it necessary to bring up something that happened over a month ago, Tony, are you that insecure? Are you trying to cause friction between myself and McGee, to make him take sides because of your lack of confidence?" Ziva was backtracking furiously, again put in a position by Tony DiNozzo to defend herself and her actions.

Tony held up his hands, denying her accusation. "Ziva, come on. You brought it up, I'm assuming to embarrass me. Sorry if it backfired." Ziva wanted to wipe that well-used smug look off his face.

"And to be honest, I'd forgotten about it, you know, more concerned with that bullet hole in my arm rather than missing a dinner party that I wasn't invited to. The only reason I'm bringing it up now is because you just reminded me of it." The smirk was gone, serious mien taking its place. Ziva belatedly realized that Tony was not amused, probably had never been.

"Reminded you of what, DiNozzo, something case related?" And they all knew it wasn't a no-for-an-answer question. Gibbs had appeared out of nowhere and Ziva was hard pressed not to show any reaction.

"Actually, no, the dinner party..." Tony started but Ziva quickly jumped in.

"...of the cold case we are working on, Gibbs. Two of the suspects had dinner together the night before the homicide. We need to recheck their alibis."

Good save, thought Tony, closing his mouth with a snap. It would have been petty and childish to have to go to Gibbs about not receiving an invite to Ziva's dinner party back when it happened, now, it would have been just petty revenge and he could imagine Gibbs' glare of contempt at his whining. If he hadn't cared enough to complain back then he certainly didn't now but Ziva didn't know that and it kept her on edge.

"Well!?" Gibbs glared at them all as he passed by en route to his desk.

"On it, Boss."

"Working on it, Boss."

"Right away, Gibbs."

The chorus of voices followed by scurrying back to desks and computers was immediate and Gibbs sat down with a satisfied grunt, recess was over.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony DiNozzo glanced surreptitiously at his coworkers before outwardly immersing himself in the cold case with a sigh of relief. He had Ziva on the run, McGee wasn't paying attention and Gibbs was alert but had not caught on. But his thoughts were not easy and it had nothing to do with the Director FBI or the Governor's Ball for that matter.

He wasn't a hypocritical bureaucrat or as Ziva once said, a buttock kisser and he wasn't trying to favor attention from the higher ups. It was a personal matter whatever 'it' was and it was really nothing as yet, plus, he had no choice since he didn't know what it was about just that someone was in trouble. He'd wait as long as he could or at least until he was contacted before he went ahead and tried to find out for himself what was going on.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: same as Chapter one

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Two, Double wink, wink

Previously on NCIS

The chorus of voices followed by scurrying back to desks and computers was immediate and Gibbs sat down with a satisfied grunt, recess was over.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

About an hour later, Director Vance and FBI Agent Tobias Fornell came down the stairs from the Director's office and approached Tony's desk.

"Agent DiNozzo." Vance started without preliminary.

Tony stood up with an inquiring look on his face. "Yes, sir?"

"Agent DiNozzo, Fornell here has a personal message from Hank and Miriam."

Fornell cleared his throat with a smirk. "The Director and his wife thank you for your invaluable help with the grandnephews and would like to again extend the standing invitation to you to have dinner or several dinners at their residence or restaurant of your choice as their guest."

"Right, thank you, Agent Fornell," said Tony uncomfortably aware of his audience.

"Good, message delivered. Now if you'll excuse us. Gibbs?" Vance nodded to Gibbs then turned abruptly to head back to his office. Gibbs got the message, rose from his desk and he and Fornell followed Vance back up the stairs.

Tony watched them go with a frown and grim thoughts of what might be going on now to have the FBI involved. He glanced over at Tim who was also watching them go and had the ever curious expression on his face.

"Do you know what's going on, Tony?" McGee had a feeling by the way Tony lowered his eyes that Tony knew something but was being closed-mouthed and not sharing.

"Afraid not, McCurious," Tony answered halfheartedly, his thoughts elsewhere. "Probably nothing good, for us, that is."

"Hank and Miriam?" Ziva beat a dead horse to a second death.

"You are on a first name basis with the FBI DIRECTOR and his wife, Tony?"

Ziva was suspiciously jealous, which sometimes reduced her to making scathing and bitter comments especially to Tony if she thought she could get away with it when she felt left out. But now even McGee was looking at him questionably.

Tony's phone rang and he hurriedly picked it up.

"Be right there, Gibbs."

"The boss summons, must respond," Tony joked as he hung up and trotted up the stairs.

"Why does Tony have intimate contact and knowledge of the Director of the FBI Something's going on, Tim." Ziva sat back in her seat frowning.

"Pardon me, Ziva, but of course something's going on," Tim replied irony evident in his voice. "When is there not? And we're not called junior agents or Probies for nothing in spite of our ambitions. We'll hear about it soon enough." Sometimes, McGee could be straightforwardly blunt in separating the mile-long chasm between aspiration and reality.

Tim was curious but Ziva's ready assumption that she should be first in the need to know line was irritating and it just served to heighten her already volatile temper by stirring the embers when it never happened.

Ziva turned her frown on him but he didn't flinch. And Ziva thought unkindly, and she knew most of the time her thoughts were unfair, but what was the point with him anyway? He was not on her side or afraid of her anymore and here at work, where before it had been she and Tim and even Abby a team, and Tony on the outside, now the dynamics had changed and she was fighting to not be on the outside.

So she could only contribute McGee's isolating attitude towards her to his having no ambition or drive, willing to be Tony's sidekick always trailing behind. Or maybe she was struggling against thinly disguised misogyny, a new word she had learned that had been thrown at her by a jealous female agent who had tried to be her phony friend.

In her ongoing efforts to improve her English she had looked the word up and it described a man who hated women but that could not be why Tim had stopped responding to her ambitious drive, and yes, sometime aggression. McGee obviously did not hate women and had never appeared a chauvinist to her.

Perhaps he was only one-dimensional about women who were strong and held a position of power and authority and that would explain why he was reluctant to engage word battles with her or even argue his point. She had noticed that in this country women unencumbered by the need for male authority were uniformly considered petty, shallow, adolescent fractions of full human beings as compared to every male, even the weak ones, like Tim. A dull, inactive and unchallenging man, content to settle in his chair and sit in front of his computer to sprout all day.

In the time it took for her to think those unsavory and untrue thoughts, Tim had not turned away or lowered his eyes and she got the uncomfortable impression that he knew exactly what she was thinking and she felt of all things...ashamed. Maybe she needed to reevaluate how she saw herself.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

In Vance's office Gibbs and Fornell were seated facing the Director at his desk when Tony entered. An empty chair was placed next to Fornell, which meant things weren't too bad if he was being offered a chair although glancing over at Gibbs and his non-expression, Tony didn't know about that.

Once Tony was seated, Vance tried providing the bare essentials. "It has been brought to my attention that you have been working a case with the FBI and..."

"Director Vance, if I may interrupt, I am not working a case with Fornell or for the FBI. There's been some misunderstanding..."

"I'll say, DiNozzo!" Gibbs did not hold back his displeasure. "I thought when you were hired at NCIS as my SFA, I could expect your..."

"EXCUSE ME!" Vance said coldly drawing everyone's attention to his frowning face. When things quieted down to his liking he continued.

"It has been brought to my attention," he repeated firmly but continued in a softer tone when he looked around and there were no more interruptions.

"However, I don't necessarily believe everything the FBI tries to glom onto us. What's this about, DiNozzo? Some woman approaches you with a deadly secret and how does this involve the FBI Director's niece and his grandnephews, and more importantly, why am I just finding out abut it?

Tony sighed in frustration inwardly thinking how crazy this whole thing was turning out to be.

"It doesn't involve them, at all!"

"Okay than, who does it involve?" Vance was loosing sight of his hard learned lesson that Jackie was trying to instill in him that patience was a virtue. Not when you're dealing with Gibbs' less said is better attitude and the rest of his crew who it seemed had picked up the same bad habit.

Tony got up to pace. "Peggy Stratum and I were friends, good friends as children, our families ran in the same circles. We were in the same boat...let's just say our mother's were dead and our father's were...should never have become parents.

"We lost touch when I was sent to military school and she was boarded overseas in an exclusive girls school but we never forgot each other. Eventually she found me again in Baltimore and we exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch.

"We met up again by coincidence at a movie memorabilia auction. I had thought of starting a collection of films still on their original reels. After a while, I and this woman seemed to be the only ones interested and still bidding and she seemed almost desperate upping my bid each time.

"Finally, I conceded defeat and let her have the collection. The funny thing is she came over to thank me, said her husband was expecting her to bring the reels home. The closer look I got of her, I knew who she was and she recognized me."

Tony stopped pacing and talking and the other three men in the room looked at each other in various stages of impatience.

"That's a nice story, DiNozzo but what does it have to do with anything?" Fornell asked what they were all thinking.

Tony looked bemused. "That's just it, it was a nice story up to a point. I asked her to have a drink in the hotel where the auction was being held, talk over old times and she was reluctant at first but then she agreed and seemed happy enough to be there. That's all it was, just a drink with an old friend."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony sat comfortably with the beautiful Peggy as they reminisced and laughed about old times. The next thing he knew, some well-dressed, not unattractive blond guy who reeked of money walks over to where they were sitting, sits down in their booth next to Peggy and throws his arm around her shoulder. Peggy grew pale, stiffened up and lost all animation and the man started to scold her in a gentle, unthreatening voice.

"Margaret, sweetheart, I thought I'd surprise you and dismiss the driver and come and pick you up myself. The auction has been over for half an hour and I have been waiting in the hot car out front for you all that time. Is there a reason you're inside sitting comfortably while I wait and can you explain it to me?"

That's all he said at first but the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stood up pretty quick and Peggy tried to hide it but she wasn't looking too good either so Tony thought he'd give the guy something else to fixate on.

"Hi, I'm Tony DiNozzo. Peggy, here, and I are old friends from school days and it's my fault she was delayed. I hadn't seen her in years and wanted to catch up."

Tony stuck his hand out but Mr Arrogant just looked at it like it was something loathsome, didn't say a word to Tony and turned back to Peggy.

"I'm waiting, Margaret."

Tony gave the creeper credit for not raising his voice but his tone held more than a hint of menace and Peggy seemed to shrink in her own skin. Seeing this, Tony got pretty pissed at this guy's attitude.

"Hey! I told you who I am now who the hell are you?"

That got Arrogant's attention. He dug into Peggy's arm a little too roughly before he removed his arm from around her shoulder and turned to peruse Tony, sizing him up. The guy's smile was ugly as he snapped his fingers twice looking to the left of DiNozzo before he deigned to address him. Tony recognized bodyguard thugs when he saw them so now he had to split his attention watching his own back from two sides, the goons sitting behind him at another small table and the creep in a four thousand dollar suit with the cold smile sitting in front of him.

"I am Shane Ringold, Margaret's husband."

The ass paused after he gave his name as though expecting Tony to bow down and kiss said ass. Tony knew who he was alright, one of those Ringold's, the old money Ringold rich but he wouldn't give the guy the satisfaction of kowtowing to money envy.

In the meantime, the minute her husband took his attention off of her, Mrs Margaret 'Peggy' Stratum Ringold, gave Tony such a pleading desperate look behind his back that he knew she wanted him to back off and go away and he could do nothing but oblige at her obvious distress.

"And you are again?" Ringold looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Joe Blow."

Tony couldn't help it, this patronizing blowhard rubbed him the wrong way. Besides, antagonizing the bullies was Tony's middle name. Still, if it caused further threat to Peggy than he would back off, cut the smart ass talk for another time when he and Ringold were alone and leave for her sake.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr Ringold, Mrs Ringold, I have important business I need to attend to. Peggy, great seeing you again."

Tony attempted to make his goodbye short and sweet and started to get up and darn it, wouldn't you know, Ringold was not going to make it easy for him to leave peaceably. Now that Ringold thought he had Tony on the run, he was going to flex a few muscles here and there enough to scare his poor wife some more and put Tony in his place for sharing a snack with someone he considered his property.

Tony DiNozzo. Ringold stared at the man who had grown from the tall lanky boy he had hated with a serious passion to the tall self-assured man sitting across from him. God, how he had hated him, the athletic, good looking, popular SOB jock who had beat him at everything. Tony lived the charmed life on his family estate that had swimming pools, tennis courts, horses and vintage cars with a loving father who cared deeply for him.

He, on the other hand, had grown up at a time when his family was desperately poor and hiding their destitute secrets. His family who got on by handouts from better-off relatives and a few friends. His family struggling just to eat three meals a day, too proud to admit they were just poor trash and too dumb to figure things out. Living in two rooms of their decrepit, cold mansion, no servants, certainly no horses, a mosquito infested swimming pool and nothing else while Tony DiNozzo had satin sheets and downy covers. It was payback time for him having nothing while Anthony DiNozzo, Jr had had everything.

"Leaving so soon? I think not, Anthony DiNozzo, Jr, Joe Blow. Not before we have a little chat and an understanding, if you will. My two men over there will escort you out discretely and I will be with you shortly after I speak with my wife Margaret for a few minutes."

So. He remembers me, thought Tony, but I remember him also and his suggestion of me sticking around until he was satisfied I had learned my lesson wasn't going to work for me."

"Think again, Shannon Goldilocks," Tony taunted.

Yes, Tony knew who he was alright. Gossip was that Ringold's family had had big money owning several railroad lines since the late eighteen hundreds but automobiles were invented and the family was disenchanted by the loss of its huge revenue when the passenger list fell off. Their riches were lost and it was hand to mouth truths hidden behind the facade of great family wealth until oil was found on their properties and they were rich again.

Tony and Shane use to play on the youth opposing soccer teams at the same exclusive country club. Ringold had been a pretty good player but he could never make a score when Tony was up. Tony had lots of friends but everybody hated the rottenly spoiled, only-child brat, Shane Ringold, who the kids use to call Shannon because he was a bully but cried like a little girl and Goldilocks because of his curly blond hair. Tony knew his nickname had stuck in college even though he had finally cut off the blond locks. The crying had obviously stopped but Ringold's claim to courage no doubt was developed from a bottle labelled hired help; caliber of weapon not important.

Ringold flushed at the reminder of the repulsive nickname but before he could say or do anything else, he felt something hard pressed against his leg. Tony had his Sig, hidden nicely from public view under the small table, pressed firmly against Ringold's thigh.

Ringold's realization that there was no scenario whereby he would not get a bullet lodged in his groin unless he let this man walk away was like acid in his mouth. And the man facing him, with the gun, knew that he knew that.

"So, I think we've got our understanding." Tony jiggled the gun a little.

"If not, let me spell it out for you. My understanding is that if your hired help come any closer you're going to have a short but lifelong problem with your leg and a lot of gushing blood and gore. So tell them to back off and we'll both be satisfied, you with your leg intact and the ability to have children, and me, well, let's just say, I prefer walking out unassisted and unobstructed on my own."

Ringold still hesitated and Tony pressed the barrel harder into his leg, there'd be a bruise in the morning. Peggy, sitting next to her husband, remained silent and watchful while her husband and Tony played the waiting game. Tony could tell precisely when Ringold's desire to remain healthy swayed his decision to drop his strong-arm tactics and the man actually smiled genially at Tony as he casually signaled to his men and then leaned back in his chair and put his hands on the table.

Tony took that to mean he could leave and stood up. His gun had disappeared in its holster at his waist but his jacket flapped open and the badge and holstered gun on his belt were prominently displayed. Ringold's lips thinned at the sight, Tony wasn't just a Joe Blow nobody anymore. He knew what NCIS was, a government agency, the Federal government and so this intruder who dared to approach his wife with his smile and charm had ties and probably allies with an agency tasked with policing several branches of the military. Ringold knew when he had played and lost. He rose from his chair and thrust out his hand.

"No hard feelings, DiNozzo, perhaps we'll meet again."

"I doubt it, Ringold, but you never know."

Tony ignored the outstretched hand, nodded to Peggy, exited the booth and left without a backward glance. Ringold's ears pinked and his eyes narrowed as he watched Tony until the man went through the lobby doors and disappeared.

Tony could feel Ringold's eyes pinpointing the target on his back as he left. The two goons were nowhere in sight but he kept his eyes open anyway. There was something dangerous and malevolent about Ringold and his wife was deathly afraid of him or...there was something else going on, because she was deathly afraid of something.

Tony had slipped Peggy his card under the table and he smiled sardonically as he got in his car at all that had gone on under that table but none of the good stuff, and hoped that she'd call if she needed help.

During Tony's narration, Gibbs had gotten up for his second cup of coffee from the new pot, stronger than the first, Vance was staring out the window in an apparent trance and Fornell sat frowning with elbows on knees.

"And I ask again, what does all this have to do with a damn thing, DiNozzo?"

"It's a Gibbs', 'I don't believe in coincidences', coincidence, Fornell, and neither do I."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

,


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Three, Flippant intent

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The team had been involved in a joint protection duty with the FBI to stand guard for a formal dinner party the Secretary of the Navy and his wife were hosting. Also on the guest list were the Director of the FBI and his wife.

Tony and Tim, wearing tuxedos spit and polish shine, walked around and through the party as it sizzled with excitement and drama. Ziva and Gibbs, on the other hand, were less punctiliously formal, wearing cargo pants, jeans and shirts as they sat closeted in a surveillance vehicle.

Ziva kept her dissatisfaction to herself for as usual she was regulated to the, what was the new word she had conquered, 'stratosphere', monitoring and reporting but not directly involved in the live action.

She listened in as NCIS' Griffin's team patrolled the outside perimeter as they relayed it was still free of obvious unfriendlies. Other agents keeping watch unobtrusively, reported in also.

"It's quiet," relayed McGee low-keyed into his comm.

"Same here," Tony responded as they kept eyes and ears open for any sort of trouble. "But these hors d'oeuvres, man, I'm hungry."

"Tony, you are on protection duty, which means stop thinking about your baser needs and concentrate on your duty." Ziva took him to task, impatient and admittedly torn with envy. Would he always get away with deeds of foolishness or ever become a mature adult? Would Gibbs never see him for what he was?

"I'm grateful for the reminder, Ziva," mocked Tony. And by the derision in his voice, Ziva belatedly realized she had scolded him inappropriately over the live wire for everyone to hear.

After that, Ziva only heard silence from Tony's end. Feelings hurt again, she assumed, perhaps she should apologize, make a joke out of it. When she opened her mouth to speak, Gibbs reached over and pulled her earplug from her ear.

"You're not his mother, his wife or even his girlfriend, Ziva, so quit acting like you are, or are you just trying to distract him?"

Distraction would not take much with a brain the size of a fruit fly, thought Ziva spitefully.

"No, Gibbs. I am just trying to lighten the mood. We have been at this for hours."

"You too tired to continue your shift, Ziva?" He asked her but she knew the answer he expected to hear.

"Of course not!"

"Good, then get back to work! What DiNozzo does is what he does."

Ziva hated it, reprimanded again and warned off by Gibbs, as though she was a grade school delinquent bully picking on teacher's pet. Gibbs thrust the earplug back at her, which she expertly caught. She wisely kept her face averted from his gaze in order not to show the emotion she was trying to hide; muted anger at herself for being caught out again and Gibbs' continued favoritism, Tony over her.

Meantime, the SECNAV had made his appearance and other military 'dignitaries' at the Ball as well. The place was genteelly packed, the mood expectably festive and lively. Tony looked through the ostentatiousness and affected crowd for something that appeared out of place or something understated as he stood at his assigned post.

His back was to the south wall, hands crossed in front of him, eyes roaming, alert. The grand staircase swirled with color as designer gowns clothed in women came and went. Soft music played by a live band filtered through tinkling glassware and competed with the muted but shrill droning noise of the crowd like a throng of cicadas calling their mates.

Tony had memorized a list of the guests attending tonight so he couldn't say he was surprised when the beautiful Margaret Ringold floated down the stairs in equally beautiful and sparkling silver and gold. After all, her family was part of the rich and famous as was her husband Shane Ringold of the old, new-money Ringold. Tony didn't miss the firm hold Shane had on his wife's hand or the body language that screamed this woman is mine, body and soul, as they descended the stairs, and as they passed, Tony caught her eye but she looked away quickly without a nod of recognition.

The FBI Director escorted his wife on one arm and his niece with the triplets, whose husband was deployed on an aircraft carrier, on the other. Niece winked and dimpled at him when they passed by and Tony foresaw with trepidation more baby-sitting duty in his future.

Of course, the stately Lady Mathilda, rich, eccentric elderly widow gowned in feathers and a hat, would be the one to take his breath away as her surprise guest-escort, none other than the flamboyant Anthony DiNozzo, Sr, gallantly held her arm down the many carpeted steps.

The Lady gave a polite nod and smile to everyone she met as they snail paced past in slow motion. Tony could only spare a glimpse but out of the corner of his eye he caught the sneer Senior aimed at him even as he smiled winningly at the Lady. The optical illusion that was his father of the perfect gentleman was cracked and jaded and he thought that Lady Mathilda must have senile film covering her eyes not to see the rottenness underneath that was exposed to anyone discerning enough to see. Perhaps she didn't care.

His father's appearance hyped Tony's already defensive edginess and as the evening wore on, he wore himself out trying not to be distracted by Senior's presence and why he was there? Two hours later Tony moved from the spot and took up circulating the room in an orchestrated change of the guard with the other agents. At one point he found himself not far away from Fornell's boss, the Director of the FBI, who stood chatting with a group of men.

"A word with you later, Agent DiNozzo?" the Director requested as Tony passed by.

Tony paused respectfully, "Of course, sir," and then continued on with his duty.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The night was finally over. The threat had been low for terrorists attacks and the evening's festivities had ended without mishap; that is, unless you discounted some of the guests free flowing boozy stumbles and falls, the wandering, age-spotted lustful hands on soft young flesh and the spiteful, non-retractable, inebriated words spilled freely, as without mishap.

Tim and Tony met up at the far end of the ballroom as the last of the straggling night owls who didn't know when to go home, left.

"Catch you on Monday, Tim."

"What do you mean, catch me on Monday, you rode with me, remember?"

"I'll take a cab home, got to see somebody."

"I don't believe you, DiNozzo. How'd you do it?" McGee complained.

"What are you going on about now, McWhiner?"

"You got a phone number or a hot date out of this, didn't you?" Tim accused. All he got was tired pinched feet and a headache.

"Ah, ah, that's for me to know and you to envy," Tony joked.

"Up yours, Tony!" An aggravated Tim was a rare and humorous sight.

Even so, Tim persisted, "I'm a sucker, I know, but do you want me to wait?"

McGee had gotten the surprise of his life when DiNozzo, Senior had greeted him like they were at a long lost war buddies reunion. Tony seemed unaffected but Tim wasn't sure, maybe he wanted to talk about it or his old man, or something.

Tony noted McGee's inquiring look and unspoken question but he also noted the man's wan, exhausted face; they were all tired. And he didn't need to talk about it anyway.

"Nah, don't know how long I'll be. Go home, get some rest."

"Get some rest? Yeah, sure," Tim complained as he started walking away.

"You sound like Gibbs and his, 'go home, get some rest'. Yeah, until the brutal wake up call two hours later with a, 'grab your gear,' greeting growled in your ear and a dead dial tone."

Tony smirked, so true, and watched him go until the sound of his footsteps faded and he was left standing alone frowning. His father was back. Tony was used to carrying his own load so having someone to talk to about personal things felt unfamiliar and disturbing and wasn't an option he was willing to use. He and McGee were friends but drinking a beer together wasn't cause for a best friend for life pin and he wasn't going to spill his guts about his father unless his father was back to no-good involving him or NCIS or he was on his death bed.

Tony shook off the pins-and-needles mood his father's presence within a hundred miles of him always brought on as he started walking towards an anteroom for his meeting with the head of the FBI. His personal concerns would have to wait but he couldn't drop the uneasy feeling that his father's appearance now was not a coincidence; the four million dollars found at the DiNozzo mansion from his last case with the soulless ex-Senator had become available as NCIS and the FBI could not prove the money had been a drug payoff, stolen, laundered, gang related or from organized crime.

The tainted money was found on the DiNozzo mansion property and founders' rights were in effect. The money was his. His and his father's and somehow, Anthony DiNozzo, Sr must have found out about it. Had he returned to get his share of it or all of it if he could and who had told him about it? That had to be the only reason he was back in DC and somehow he had managed to purloin the affection of a clueless old lady to slip his way back into high society.

Tony didn't care about the money but who had leaked that info to his father since he had just found out about it last week, that's what he cared about. He'd hand over his father's share in a paper sack and be done with it once and for all. But working with someone he couldn't trust, not something to be done with; not something he might be able to live with either. Literally live with as in stay alive covering his own back.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony met up with the Director as prearranged. The head of the agency was alone in the obsolete smoking room, smoking a cigar while sitting in a comfortable chair under the quaint no-smoking sign. His glass of straight Bourbon was on the coffee table in front of him along with a plate of sandwiches. Tony took a seat on the sofa, stretched out his long legs and eased his tie. He grabbed a half sandwich off the plate and started to eat.

"Agent DiNozzo," the Director greeted, his expression leaving little doubt to his mood.

"Just so you know, Fornell has my permission to continue to hound you to come over to the better side. What's taking you so long?"

"Yes, sir," replied Tony, swallowing his bite of bread and meat.

"I do realize that and I hassle with the dilemma on occasion, maybe once in a blue moon, but so far, my conscience remains clear on my decision to stick with NCIS. Sorry, Sir."

"Hmmm, fine!" Said the Director taking several puffs and Tony tried hard not to cough when the acrid smoke came billowing out of the Director's mouth and into his face. The Director's face remained stoic but Tony caught the little twinkle in his eye and knew the man had done it on purpose as payback for his being loyal to NCIS.

"Miriam know what you're doing in here, Hank?"

"No, DiNozzo!" The Director glared, "And you'd better not tell her, either."

The Director's glare eased up and was replaced by a look of contentment as he puffed some more on his cigar enjoying his few minutes of peace away from his wife's nagging and threats if he didn't stop sneaking around catering to his addiction.

"A man's hobby is his own business and the right to smoke has been held sacrosanct from the ages of time."

Tony just grinned knowingly at the man. "If you say so, sir. In the meantime, Mom and Pop are on board and your Italian feast is in the planning stages now, so much so, I can already smell the garlic in the pasta sauce."

"Good, good and remind them enough food for two hundred strong. Miriam wanted a trip overseas for our anniversary but I couldn't get away so this surprise dinner is the next best thing until I can take some time in the spring."

"Don't worry, Hank. Mom and Pop are the best at Italian cuisine, authentic old Country cooking and using only the best ingredients imported from Italy. Miriam won't be disappointed, I guarantee it."

"Good to hear, Tony, and of course you are invited and bring a date."

"Thanks, Director, but I think someone's coming." Tony hauled himself up from the sofa, straightened his tie and adjusted his suit. When the Director belatedly heard the footsteps approaching he hurriedly stumped out his cigar in the China plate with his half eaten sandwich, dumped the evidence on the floor beside his chair then waved his arms around to dispel the smoke just before female voices invaded his sanctuary.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"That's it? You're planning the FBI Director's anniversary party? That's the big conspiracy?" Fornell was almost spitting in disgust.

"I'm not planning his party, I'm just having his party catered by the best Italian food chefs in the DC area."

"Since when have you become buddy-buddy with 'Hank', DiNozzo?" The question came out of the blue yonder from a previously silent Gibbs.

"Not relevant!" Vance barked. "That can wait for another hour of wasted time. Right now, my concern is there'd better be more to this story than what you told us so far, DiNozzo. I don't like the idea that I've been chairing a meeting over the choice of food items for a dinner party." Vance's voice threatened grave retribution if that was, in fact, the case.

"No, there's more. I just wanted to make sure you understood that I am not working undercover for the FBI. That there's no connection between that and what happened next."

"So, what happened next was...?

The Director's wife, Miriam, came into the room first, sniffing the air in a moue and her piercing eyes zoomed in on her husband. She kissed Tony on the cheek and patted him on the back before beckoning to her husband who followed her out meekly after saying his goodnights.

The Director's niece, Kathy Vigil, followed her in and she was doing most of the chattering to the subdued woman beside her. Tony looked surprised for a second and again wondered what bizarre position the stars had carefully aligned themselves into this night as Margaret 'Peggy' Ringold walked in sedately with Kathy on one side and her husband Shane on the other, as they entered the room.

It seemed the lovely, gregarious Niece Kathy and Peggy Ringold were friends, not just friends, but best friends.

"Tony," said the niece happily. "Margaret has hold me that you two have known each other for ages and that you've met her husband, Shane. How wonderful, that makes us all old friends then, almost family."

Never mind the kooky alignment of stars,Tony now felt he was in Abbyland madness again. Old friends? Family? Hardly. That was not how he would describe the daggers Shane Ringold was aiming at him before he covered his feelings in phony hospitality and sly, smoothly spoken words. He started in as soon as the Director and his wife left and the remaining ladies headed for the powder room, which left Tony and Shane alone.

"I understand you're working tonight, Tony, but in spite of that, I will say welcome just the same. I must commend you on your choice of vocation. Really, if you must work, there's no shame in having aspirations to be in... law enforcement, is it?"

"Yep. I was even a policeman at one point." Tony bragged, he could play along and be charmingly dumb and obnoxious, too.

"A cop?" Ringold's lip curled. "A beat cop, how quaint. Every little boy's dream come true along with firemen and superheroes. Not everyone is suited to those types of positions, Tony, some would even say it is a demeaning fall to well below your class considering your background."

Ringold must have been thinking odd thoughts that now would be a good time to denigrate Tony's...whole life, really, and in such an admirably aloof and coolly calculated way to insult. Tony wasn't impressed and really wasn't in the mood, it'd been a long day. He'd put up with the idiot's rudeness while Peggy was present and until and when he found out what was wrong with her. Until then, whatever Ringold's problem was with him, he couldn't care less and while they were alone he'd take none of his BS.

Tony stepped up and personal in Ringold's face.

"Listen, Goldilocks! Back off or I will kick your sorry ass, again, if one go round wasn't painful enough for you!"

Tony spoke with such chilly contempt that Ringold wanted to take a swing at that arrogant chin so badly he could taste it but he took a step back from the annoying navy cop's challenge. Ringold would get his revenge in his usual way, one man against three or four or more of his hired men.

Even while he was making his plans for future revenge, Ringold couldn't get the picture of their younger selves out of his mind; of losing at some game or another again by mere points to DiNozzo and his team, and then suffering the humiliation of trying to sneak up behind him with a bat to hammer him into the ground only to get the worst beating of his life for his efforts instead. In spite of his best efforts, the hatred became too much to contain and Ringold burst out furiously, "Why you...!"

Female voices interrupted their standoff and Tony turned away with a genuine smile for the benefit of the ladies who had just returned from the powder room. Ringold wiped the hateful expression along with the sweat off his face before turning to greet his wife and the other ladies who excused themselves politely and said their goodbyes. Tony got the subliminal impression that Peggy wished she could go with them. Instead, she stepped up to her husband's side and smiled a smile that hardly left her lips and didn't reach her eyes.

No doubt Ringold saw what he wanted to see and smiled back not noticing the brief grimace of distaste when he pulled her to his side.

"Margaret, dear, I was just telling Tony here that we are having our own little after the ball soirée and will be flying to Monte Carlo as soon as we leave from here. It's understandable that he cannot attend, duty calls. Perhaps next time if your work allows?"

He threw an inquiring look Tony's way phony and false and Tony wondered, why bother? It was just the three of them, no one here to impress. But Shane Ringold continued his absurd pretense of saccharine, husbandly concern, and an almost flawless public facade of friends happily reunited.

"Would you like that, Margaret?"

Margaret appeared ready to say something when her husband preempted any response by holding out his arm to her. She gracefully stepped forward to say goodbye to Tony and than clumsily dropped her clutch at his feet. Her husband, who watched her every move, tsk'ed under his breath and bent down to retrieve the purse and it's contents scattered about. As quickly as an eye blinked, Margaret thrust a piece of paper over her husband's head into Tony's hand and the clandestine moment came and went unobserved by Ringold.

Tony could only watch as the facade slipped and the idiot chastised his wife as though she were a delinquent child. "I see someone will be taking more etiquette classes in their future. At least you had the decency to maintain a hold on your purse and not cause yourself greater embarrassment by being a clumsy boor in front of the other guests, don't you agree, Margaret?"

And why did those simple sentences sound more menacing than a blow to the face?

Tony wanted to give Shane Ringold a blow to the face with his boot than see how much of a clumsy boor he'd be with no teeth in his mouth but he held back. Now was not the time.

"I'm sorry, Shane." Peggy apologized quietly as they left the room.

Since the others had already said their goodbyes and no one seemed to be around, Tony read the note quickly. I will contact you. Was the gist of the message, nothing more.

"That's basically all there was to it. I haven't seen or heard from Peggy Ringold since that last encounter."

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Four, Straight faced joke

Previously on NCIS

"That's basically all there was to it. I haven't seen or heard from Peggy Ringold since that last encounter."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Where'd ya get this information, Fornell, or better yet, who gave it to you? Who's this woman you haven't told us anything about? How do you get from Peggy Ringold's scrap of paper note to DiNozzo to a woman's warning about some mysterious something going to happen?"

Gibbs fired questions at the FBI agent and Tony was holding his breath for some answers too. What was going on?

"Hold your horses, Gibbs! I'll tell you what I know. An anonymous female caller using an untraceable phone even with the FBI's resources contacted us on the FBI's hotline...and yes we have a hotline, similar to NCIS's hotline except dealing with the Country not the military. She said three things; a deal was being brokered from a prison, sale of a nuclear bomb, and that, I quote, 'Anthony DiNozzo has been informed, why isn't he doing something?'"

All three men turned to stare at the hapless SFA who looked back blankly at them.

"Me!? I swear to god I don't know what she's talking about. There was nothing on that paper except what I told you. Look I have it here..." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his wallet and handed it to Fornell. "That's it, that's all there was."

Fornell passed the paper to Gibbs who commented sarcastically, "Maybe we should be looking for a secret message in invisible ink. You got a UV light or a decoder ring, Leon?"

Vance paused a beat..."Not here in the office, Gibbs. I'll call home, see if Jared or Kayla still have theirs."

Fornell saw the look that passed between Gibbs and Vance. Pull his leg would they? He blurted out irritably, "What the he...is this a joke, because..."

"Hold your horses, Fornell, a moment of lightness won't kill you. I'm taking this seriously although we don't have anything to go on except some anonymous woman, who is probably pulling our leg.

"And, all kidding aside, Gibbs, that's not a bad idea," Vance said thoughtfully.

"DiNozzo, see that the note gets to Ms Sciuto just on the off chance that there is something hidden on that paper. I'm sure she'll find it if anyone can and without the Decoder ring.

Gibbs handed the paper back to DiNozzo while looking at him speculatively.

"Something I find mighty peculiar. The messenger specifically said Anthony DiNozzo, not Junior or Tony, the name most people would know you by. Strange."

Tony had been thinking the same thing. That son of a...if he's involved in this, I'll kill him myself for real this time. When can I expect him to be out of my life permanently? Damn him! Shoulda contacted him about the two million dollars before this, maybe could have prevented what he's up to now but just the thought of being in the same space as him or having to listen to his sniveling verbal attacks and foul-mouthed abuse...just...

"DiNozzo!" That was Gibbs calling him on his absent presence.

"He's in DC." Tony blurted out. "Damn him, he was at the ball, a slimy companion escort to an elderly dowager, Lady Mathilde, senility must have set in, surprised the hell out of me, didn't talk to him so don't know what...what the...!"

DiNozzo's disjointed, choppy speech had been interrupted by Gibbs as he diverted from his well-worn path to the coffee pot to the back of Tony's chair where he swatted him on the head in a wake-up call. But a surprised Gibbs was taken aback when DiNozzo reared back around to glare daggers at him.

"Don't do that!"

Gibbs prided himself on keeping a cool head, one of his relatively few vices, so he didn't react in spite of his disturbed surprise at what he thought was DiNozzo's out-of-place hostility. Usually, DiNozzo took the tap with some humor certainly not the mule-headedness and...aggression? he was showing now.

Gibbs didn't know it but DiNozzo's memories of being Senior's whipping boy had been paramount in his mind since seeing him at the ball. There'd been no contact although Tony had waited for some sign from the man. He had even put fifty thousand dollars in the one account of his that Senior knew about in hopes of flushing him out, but nothing.

And now Gibbs knocking him around just reminded him of his cruddy childhood before and after his mother died. Even though Gibbs' hits to the head didn't hurt, still, it was the principle of the thing and he had warned Gibbs not to do it.

His father hadn't learned when he yelled at him he wasn't going to take it any more and had whaled on him once too often until Tony had finally whaled back. Once the brutal altercation that ensued was over, Tony had some cracked ribs and a sprained wrist and was disinherited and banished to Rhode Island Military Academy.

Senior hadn't gotten off easy either. He had a busted head, split lip, several teeth missing, his shoulder was never the same and his ego was bruised beyond repair after being bested by his twelve-year-old son. Most of his injuries, granted, were from being falling-down drunk and crashing into pieces of furniture and running into the glass patio doors in his relentless pursuit of the agile boy but Tony got his punches in too.

"Okay," Gibbs said mildly. He didn't apologize but he made a vow to himself that the head slaps would stop. DiNozzo had stopped receiving them in the spirit they were given, time to move on.

"Now, who was at the ball?" Gibbs got back to the case they were working.

But memories too close to the surface had Tony rising from his seat and moving away less he do something senseless like hitting Gibbs back but he recognized that Gibbs had backed down and now he needed to get his wayward temper back in control.

Tony walked over to the coffee pot but wasn't interested in coffee and didn't see anything stronger he could sneakily grub off Vance to rinse the bitter taste of thoughts of violence and revenge, past and present, from his mouth. He turned to face the other three men.

"My father's in DC. He was at the ball escorting a senior citizen old enough to be his grandmother. No idea what he's up to as we didn't talk but if the name Anthony DiNozzo was thrown about and it wasn't me, well you figure it out."

"I knew I should have locked that slimy bast...excuse me DiNozzo, that bastion of privileged elite the minute I laid eyes on him."

"You did." Gibbs reminded.

"But I didn't keep him, did I? That's where I made my mistake."

"Look, don't hold back on my account," Tony said feeling himself calming down from the moment at the triviality. Were they doing it on purpose? Whatever, he took the time to get his thoughts and emotions together.

"He is a slimy bast...ass and he needs to be found at least to question. I've left cheese in the amount of fifty thousand dollars in an account I know he's tried getting into before but he's not biting."

"Very well then. First on the list is to find Senior," instructed Director Vance.

"Second, find this woman. I think you're going to have to question Margaret Ringold, DiNozzo, push her along somehow, accidentally bump into her. We need what she knows, if anything, if we're going to stop whatever is happening from happening. Since we don't know what's happening, it could all be a coincidence and she doesn't know anything."

Vance looked disgusted. He profoundly disapproved of the gobbledygook he had just spoken because all the words meant were, 'we got nothin', regarding the progress on this case.

And Gibbs', "don't believe in coincidences," wasn't helping.

"Fine, I guess you'll do your thing, Fornell, we'll do ours, keep in touch." The meeting was over.

Gibbs walked with Fornell to the elevator and they spoke a few words while Tony waited on the top stairs. Their discussion was short and sweet, a quick goodbye and Gibbs approached Tony at the stairs.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs leaned against the railing and waited for Tony to say his piece.

"Yeah, look sorry about earlier. I have some things on my mind and..."

"Nothing wrong with expressing how you feel. Head slaps are obsolete anyway since your head is made of steel mixed with granite. I'm surprised you can even feel them anymore."

"Yeah, well thanks, Gibbs, how very observant, at least you didn't say it was empty," Tony answered dryly.

"Nope. Never said it was empty."

The insult appeared incongruous with the smirk and easy stance Gibbs affected and Tony was willing to let the incident go if Gibbs was.

Gibbs started down the stairs but Tony called him back.

"Gibbs, wait..." Tony stood there looking determined.

"What is it now, DiNozzo?" Gibbs was short one cup of coffee for the day and he needed to catch up.

"You need to or someone needs to talk to Ziva about Senior's whereabouts, just not me."

"You still don't trust her." Gibbs stated, not a question.

"Do you?"

"She's your partner, DiNozzo." Gibbs turned and headed down the stairs.

That was not an answer, Gibbs, Tony thought with a bit of heat, and almost yelled it out to Gibbs' retreating back but he was glad he'd held his tongue as Gibbs threw over his shoulder at him.

"I'll talk to her."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

In the meantime, Timothy McGee met up with Abby Sciuto for a quick, all-you-can eat lunch buffet.

"Not hungry, Abby, or at least not this hungry. Why'd you insist on eating here?"

"Timmy, you're too skinny. I liked you pleasantly plump and sorta out of shape. This dieting and exercising you're doing, it's too much, too soon. You've got to take it slow so any weight you lose is more than just water, and the exercise, lifting weights? Not everybody can go that route, Timmy, it's just not for you."

"Well, thank you Dr Sciuto.

"No, really, Timmy. I can devise a menu plan that would work for you much better than a nutritionist could. All they want is your money, they don't care about you the individual."

While talking she had leveled a mound of mashed potatoes next to an already obscene amount of home-fries, biscuits and gravy-smothered pork chops on his plate completing the meal. A tall glass of sweet tea and a hunk of chocolate cake on the tray and she was satisfied

Tim looked at the tray in front of him with disgust. Where'd she get off telling him what he could eat while her tray was filled with rabbit food, cottage cheese and jello?"

"Be right back, Abby." Rather than argue, he knew actions spoke louder than words with her so he just left her standing there with two trays full of food that ten starving people would cry over and odd looks from the other customers. When he came back he was greeted with dark looks and pouts for leaving her stranded there. His tray contained a fruit salad, quinoa salad, yogurt, a muffin, bottle of water and coffee.

"Timmy McGee!" Abby looked at his plate disapprovingly. "You're going to eat more than that, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not, Abby, and it's Tim or McGee not Timmy."

Abby frowned mightily, crossed her arms, jutted out her chin and looked about to have a temper tantrum, maybe rolling around on the floor or stomping her foot. But the shock of McGee's steady determined stare and hard stance finally brought her to her senses.

Her pale skin flushed with embarrassment. She'd been about to make an utter fool of herself scolding McGee for being a naughty little boy not wanting to eat his carrots or in this case his five thousand calories.

"I've done it again, haven't I?"

Tim just nodded.

Not knowing what to say in her moment of awkwardness, she said the first thing that came to her mind. "Who's going to eat all this food, Timmy, sorry, Tim? It'll be a shame to throw it out."

"Get a to-go box, they'll weigh it by the pound. Tony'll eat it."

They looked at the plate of food then at each other and back at the food and burst into laughter and the awkward moment passed.

"I am so sorry, Tim. I'm trying, I really am." Abby said remorsefully as they sat down to their meal. The box of food for Tony was on the table next to her plate along with two wrapped turkey and cranberry sandwiches for Ziva and Gibbs.

"And, I didn't mean any of that crap I was spouting. You're looking pretty good, much healthier. I'm just a sore looser, I guess. You and Tony are getting along, which is great, really, but I feel left out. We use to be so close but you're kind of distant nowadays and, well..." Abby's words petered out in a sigh.

"It's okay, Abby. Things have changed but I hope we're still friends. I couldn't go on the way I was so, yeah, I'm not that same guy to be led around by his privates anymore, by you or Ziva, or at least I'm trying not to be. I'm dating now, someone Tony introduced me to. She's nice but I don't think our relationship is going anywhere, we're just friends, but it's fun trying."

Abby looked down for a moment then confessed, "Yeah, I guess misery loves company and I was so obsessed with the concept of Stan and me becoming a couple that when he...well, rejected me, might as well own up to it. He rejected me for someone else and now they're expecting their second child, and no, McGee, I'm not stalking him. I'm done with that. It's just that we know some of the same people and word gets around."

"So you're over that crazy, obsessive, about to get your ass fired, phase?"

"Under the bridge, Tim, under the bridge! And I really wasn't in love with him, it was the thought of love that I was in love with, if you know what I mean. Besides, Stan threatened to come back and cut off my pigtails...with an ax." They both laughed, Stan would have done it, too.

"Anyway, he deserves to be happy." Abby had truly let it go.

"Yeah."

"Uh huh. So, am I forgiven for those mean things I said earlier? And if I ever forget and try to do something like that again, I will force feed a ton of my least favorite food, that's two thousand pounds of horseradish down my gullet with a bullhorn, I could do it, too, it..."

"Abby, it's okay. It's just that if I'd kept on gaining weight the way I was and not working out, I don't know how much longer I'd of been a Field agent, much less on Gibbs' team. He was already giving me the evil eye when I showed up out of breath and shaking after running down a perp. You've seen what great shape he and Tony are in, and Ziva is literally a Super Ninja. At least now I can keep up with them when we're chasing the bad guys."

"It means a lot to you doesn't it, Tim, being on Gibbs' team?"

"Yeah, a dream come true. Now, I just wish Tony and Ziva were getting along better. I don't know what's going on between the two of them and it's irksome. Nothing overt though they can get into it sometimes. But ever since Tony put the brakes on what he'll put up with from her in the field, well, it's gotten pretty tense, but it's more than that."

Tim looked at her curiously, "Do you know what's going on?"

"McGee!" Abby reared back in indignation. "Don't ask me to reveal things Ziva may have told me in private. You know better than that, and besides," she smiled into her cup sheepishly, "she hasn't told me anything."

"Yeah, me neither." They finished up their lunch and threw away the trash and headed back to the navy yard.

"Wait, there is something, McGee." Abby remembered as they walked along.

"Remember that case with the ex-senator when Tony's father showed up?"

"Who could forget that?"

"McGee!" Abby stopped in the middle of the foot traffic, garnering a few dirty looks, and turned to the agent.

"That could be it. Tony's father shows up and causes all that trouble. Well, Ziva told me something, made it out like it was a big secret and no one else could know but she felt sorry for the man when he had no place to stay so she let him stay at her place even though she knew Tony and Senior couldn't stand each other and, I'm ashamed to say now but I agreed with her because, well, you know, family is everything. Until, that is, when I found out what a scumbag he was, Senior not Tony. Did you know that he disinherited Tony when he was twelve and now he's broke and has been trying to steal every penny Tony tries to save?"

When she paused to take a breath, Tim asked suspiciously, "Tony told you that?"

Her eyes widened and she turned and started walking again.

"Abbee?!"

"Oh, McGee, you know he didn't tell me, I was curious about him so I did some research." Suddenly, she turned to him again, insulted.

"You don't think I would do or say anything to hurt him, do you McGee, because I wouldn't. Tony's a nice guy and I jumped to conclusions about him and he admitted he did the same about me. But enough of that, so..."

McGee just shook his head at her chatter as they arrived at the navy yard and entered their building. Another warning not to spill his guts of any secrets to her. She was a blabber-mouth, plain and simple, nothing was sacrosanct.

He hadn't known that Senior had been a guest at Ziva's place. When was he a guest? After the case was over or...before then when they were searching for him early in the case? Had she known where he was when Tony got beaten up? No, couldn't be. Where was he going with this? She wouldn't have done that, would she? Could that be...? The elevator doors closed on his musings.

"Turkey and cranberry sauce sandwiches for you, Ziva, and here's yours, Boss."

Tim walked over to Tony's desk, who looked up expectantly. "Here you go, Tony."

A few seconds later, "Oh, holy shi...starving children everywhere, what the hell is this, McGlutton?"

McGee looked up from his computer. "Abby fixed a plate for me, portion-size wise, she used a shovel so..."

"So, what am I, a garbage dump?" Tony looked affronted.

"No, but Ziva doesn't eat pork and Gibbs, well, I know he likes turkey so...come on, Tony, you love pork chops."

"Well, there is that and since you put it that way...I'm just going to heat this up, be right back, Boss." Tony made a beeline for the break room with his carton of food when he was stopped by Director Vance as he came down the stairs.

"Hold up, DiNozzo."

At the same time, the elevator doors opened. Vance stopped his descent to stare and they all turned to see what had caught his attention. A security guard exited the conveyance followed by an older man along with a youngish woman with a toy poodle peeking out from her handbag.

"We found your father, DiNozzo, or rather, he found us."

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warning: same as Chapter One

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Five, Butter wouldn't melt...

Previously on NCIS

"We found your father, DiNozzo, or rather, he found us."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Senior saw Tony about the same time Tony set his eyes on Senior and the older man's only reaction was a narrowed-eyed squint. Tony's reaction, on the other hand, was more visceral knot twisting. His ravenous appetite disappeared, his stomach curled in a tangled mess and his hackles rose in ever present anger at the sight.

"Mr DiNozzo, please come this way," Vance directed. "Agent McGee, show Mr DiNozzo's companion to one of the conference rooms, please."

Vance was using his authority as the Director of NCIS to keep things moving and not allowing any interruptions due to a show of temper, overblown egos, or downright bad manners.

"Gibbs, with me." When Gibbs started up the stairs and Tony attempted to follow, Vance stepped in front of him in an obvious delaying tactic. DiNozzo wasn't going up those stairs without some hard-knock ground rules.

"What I expect from you, Agent DiNozzo, if you go up those stairs," said Vance, "is that you control your temper and act like an agent not a pissed-off kid throwing a hissy fit because daddy won't let him use the car. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Sir!"

Vance studied him for a moment then stepped aside and let DiNozzo proceed him up the stairs after he dumped his box of food. Vance shook his head in bemusement as he followed at a more sedate pace. From the way things were going around there, no one would blame him for sometimes wondering if he was running an agency staffed with adult, highly intelligent men and women, or a class full of recalcitrant fifteen-year old brats.

Speaking of which, intelligent but now feeling all but invisible Ziva David sat fuming like a fifteen-year old brat, only much more deadly with an arsenal of weapons. She had been overlooked and forgotten, again, left to sit and idle while the big boys took care of the big business. She should have been invited to go up there. DiNozzo Senior would have been a piece of cake for her to break and crumble into little pieces and gut him until the information they wanted spilled out. She could have sat with the woman with the beady-eyed rat-dog but that position had been given to McGee who would skipper and bow to the female with silly unnecessary talk about the weather and lying flattery about her ugly dog.

To top it off, the idiot Tony had annoyed Vance into letting him attend the so-called meeting with the scum father who was in the hump seat again, and she was left to babysit...the telephones, her apparent slot in life. Yes, she had reason to fume.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Upstairs, Vance's secretary had the three men waiting in his outer office by the time he arrived.

"Hold my calls, Rene."

"What brings you to NCIS, Mr DiNozzo?" Vance started once the men had found seats at the conference table.

Senior eyed Vance and Gibbs appraisingly while unsubtly ignoring the other man in the room.

"You might well ask that, Director Vance, since the last time I was here, you wanted to lock me up and throw away the key. However, under the circumstances, I won't ask for an apology although if one were to be forthcoming, among other things, by a representative of the NCIS..."

Senior waited expectedly, cordially, unctuous and phony, for that apology he deemed he was owed. Tony became more incensed at the audacity, first showing up unannounced and than expecting a 'sorry', instead of the thrashing he deserved. Not able to hold it in any longer, Tony jumped out of his seat in a flash of heat and spark and snarled at Senior.

"The Director asked you a question old man, answer him!"

"Agent DiNozzo!" Vance sat stiffly back in his chair. "One more outbreak from you DiNozzo and I'll ask you to leave!" His raised voice burned coal hot, too.

Tony raised his hands, enough said, though his glare at Senior never wavered. "Won't happen again, Director."

"See that it doesn't!"

Half-suppressed laughter had everyone turning to look at Senior whose toothy smile and amused eyes stared back at them.

"Still acting out, Junior? Well, really, what can you expect?" he chuckled.

"After all, he has no more control of his emotions than he did as a child. Though I did take time out of my busy schedule to try to teach him to have some pride in himself and be aware of his, shall we say, wealthy elite status. Still, he always felt that crawling in dirt was a better way of life for him even as a child, why look at the profession he chose to devote his life to."

No one in the room missed the sly innuendo and insult aimed at them and their chosen profession and no one cared. And if Senior thought pretending to be the loving benevolent father overlooking the faults of a cantankerous child would endear him to them, he was deluded.

An astute Director Vance had learned from the best how to deal with difficult personalities. An apology, and who knew what else, would not be given to this worm of a man no matter how much information he thought he had to barter with. Men like Senior, take away their feeling of having the upper hand and they'd fold like the bellows of an accordion.

"You're not getting an apology from NCIS or me, Mr DiNozzo, and until and unless you tell us why you're here or at least something relevant, you won't be receiving anything else, either. As a matter of fact, this meeting is over, now! And I'd advise you to call and make an appointment the next time you feel the need to come in and disrupt this office! Good day!"

Director Vance rose from his seat and the other two men followed suit though Tony rather reluctantly until he saw the other men's faces and realized that neither a discerning Gibbs nor Vance had taken the bait. It just made it more apparent that Senior was a slippery, egotistical, self-absorbed scoundrel who cared for no one but himself, certainly not his son.

"Hold on, just a minute!" Senior proved predictable turning apoplectic and panicky at the thought of losing his edge, of overextending his reach for the gold ring and falling off the merry-go-round horse instead.

"Alright,you've made your point no need to get hasty. Let's get down to the brass tacks here." Senior's voice had hardened and turned mean.

"I flipped open a phone I had and some woman said she had vital information I needed to look into.

"Now, you've got some money that belongs to me! Specifically, the loot you found at my mansion! My mansion, in spite of what someone else might claim! Millions wasn't it? I know the waiting period's over and it's been released from Federal jurisdiction. I want it! Legally, it belongs to me and you have no right to keep it from me!"

Gibbs managed not to avert his eyes from Senior to look over at Tony who sat surprisingly calm in his chair listening attentively to Senior's rampage with a speculative look on his face.

Vance, however, glanced surreptitiously at Tony through lowered eyes, hadn't the agent already claimed that money? Although Vance felt like he was swimming upstream, he took his cue from Tony and filled in smoothly.

"That can be arranged, Mr DiNozzo. I understand the money was released from jurisdiction just a few days ago. You want the money, we'll make it easy for you to get it," he promised, not knowing whether that was even possible.

"So, how'd you get a hold of my phone?" Tony questioned knowingly though to Vance and Gibbs the question came seemingly out of the blue.

"How did you...?" blurted Senior looking annoyed.

"It's an old one, I presume, flips open? The one you stole from me during an unauthorized visit to my apartment. Baltimore, wasn't it? Robbed while I was on stakeout, some jewelry, electronics, even found my safe. Broke into it and stole about twenty thousand. How far did that money get you? I'm assuming you kept the phone open by claiming you were me and paying the monthly bill, and stupid me, I never checked. More importantly, though, who called you on said phone and what did they want?"

Though Senior was stone-faced about how Tony had caught on about the phone so quickly, his look turned smug.

"I wouldn't call it robbery, so gauche, Junior. You owe me plenty for taking..."

"Who called you!" Tony repeated loudly.

"Watch it, Junior! I don't take orders from you, never have and never will, you should know that by now!"

Senior leaned back comfortable in his chair and leisurely removed his expensive pocket watch to check the time. The diamond studded gold ring he wore on his right forth finger was surprisingly tastefully made. Tony was on the man in seconds, the watch went flying when he slapped it out of Senior's hand and it crashed to the floor and broke into pieces. He held the sputtering Senior in his place by placing his hands on the arms of his chair and leaning forward into his space. Tony wanted to shake the words out of Senior but shook the arms of the chair once instead.

"Perche non ha colpito me cosi posso chiudere in su in prigione per copier un funzionario del Governo Federale."

Tony's switch to Italian startled Vance into another revelation about the Senior Field Agents life though he didn't know why he should be surprised, the man was Italian after all. Vance promised himself again he would find the time to go over all of his agents personnel files especially the MCRT less there be anymore surprises he had missed.

Senior shoved his chair back and got up brushing Tony out of his way.

"Bastardo, scappare lontano da me!" Senior warned hotly.

Vance kept his seat but held his breath afraid physical blows would be next. If this didn't get violent Vance would let Tony run with it. He shared a glance with Gibbs who seemed of the same mind willing to let things proceed but remaining on alert. And anyway, Tony was pissed at the older man but certainly not out of control as he demanded in Italian once again.

"Quindi hispondere alla domanda!"

"Answer the question?" Senior repeated in English as he straightened his tie.

"Or what?" he taunted Tony arrogantly. "What're you going to do if I don't? You're paying for that watch, by the way." Senior adjusted his suit before retaking his seat, he had the upper hand.

At Tony's threatening move towards him, Senior caved, not sure the other men would hold the irate Agent back. His lip curled and he spat out, "Some woman, I assume, with a deep voice who barely spoke English. Who knows who it was, who cares? She wouldn't give her name and I wasn't interested in finding it out. She thought I was you, said that was the only phone number she had for you and she wanted to give you a message."

Senior's look became calculating as he changed the subject and addressed his real objective.

"I know you've got that money, Junior. You want to know what else she said, you hand it over. It's mine, legally, in every sense of the word and you had no right to put your dirty hands on it."

Tony's smile was predatory. "Actually, it's only half your's and I had every intention of letting you have it...but now...let me suggest you spill what you know and I won't keep you tied up in court for however many years that would take, or better yet, you'll probably die before me of old age anyway, I'll just wait it out in court."

Senior's ruddy complexion suffused with more color. "I told you what I know, damn you! Some woman called warning about some crime to be committed that would take a lot of lives. She said some guy was in Folsom Prison for life but he had a whole network of loyal lieutenants and hired guns, and she mentioned the name Carlson. Now, that's all I Know!"

"When did you receive this call?" Vance broke in.

Senior shrugged his shoulder negligently as he glared at the Director. "How should I know, a month, two? I don't remember."

"And the phone?" Tony held out his hand. Senior's look of malevolence got even more intense when he turned his sights on his son again but he didn't utter another word, just reached inside his jacket pocket and produced the phone, an older model flip open cell. Senior leaned over and tossed the phone on the table where it landed dead center with a clattering clunk.

"Now you've got what you wanted, when can I expect the money?"

"Write your bank account number down, it'll be deposited today."

"What?! You think I'm a fool? Trust you with my back account numbers, really Junior?"

"Yeah, I thought so." Tony agreed philosophically, and reached for the phone and pocketed it.

"But I don't blame you, though, really, cause you never know who might hire someone to do a thorough background check, dig for the dirt and find all the loopholes and back doors where you hide your dough from the IRS and anyone else you've cheated out of their money.

"You might even find someone has broken into your place and riffled through your stuff, put their grubby paws on everything, steal anything they can get their hands on, and trash the rest of the place." Tony shook his body in disgust, one quick movement as though to shed Senior's presence like a dog shedding muddy, rank water.

"A cashier's check will be waiting downstairs at the front desk lobby in about three hours. Show your ID, get your money, then get out!" Tony ordered. He turned gracefully and headed to the door. His hand was on the knob when Senior had one last question.

"How much?"

"Why, half, of course, of the four million minus the two hundred thousand or so you stole from me on several occasions in money and electronics and the mental anguish you caused when you broke into my places. Plus, the Federal Government will get their share in income taxes."

Tony noted and expected Senior's scowl. "I'd advise you not to get any more greedy than you already are. Accept that money as is or you still might find your windfall more trouble than it's worth."

"I'll get this to Abby," said Tony to Vance not allowing for any response from Senior. He stepped through the door and closed it quietly with a soft snick.

"Well, I guess we're done here." Senior couldn't have sounded more satisfied or looked more pleased than the cat with canary feathers in his mouth and a white foamy lip from quenching his thirst in a broken bowl of cream on the floor.

"Who's the woman waiting for you downstairs?" asked Gibbs noting the man's gloating swagger. For some reason he felt proud of Tony for his self restraint in dealing with his scumbag of a father. It'd be easy to wipe that superior, 'I'm smarter than everyone in this room,' look off his face with a sniper's rifle butt.

"Gibbs!" chastised Vance as though he could read the lead agent's mind."

"It's quite alright, Director, I can answer that. I admit she's just a bimbo..uh daughter of a friend of mine, princess really with a boatload of money. I'm showing her the town right now, that is after I get my check and I'm staying at the Adams house in case you have any further questions."

Vance was at the stage where he wanted what Gibbs wanted, a Mike Tyson punch to Senior's smug face and the satisfied sound of broken cartilage.

"And speaking of which, I will be on my way if someone will escort me out. I know how much protocol means to you military types." Senior couldn't have said it with more disrespect. He stood, and there were no other words for it, preened and strutted as he started for the door.

"How'd you know about the money? Who told you?" That question was still not answered and appeared it would not be as Senior turned to sneer at Gibbs.

"For me to know, Agent Gibbs, but maybe I have a spy here at your vaunted agency. Hahaha." Senior laughed all the way out the door where a security guard would escort him to his lady friend than out of the building.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony left the Director's office feeling contaminated and slimy. Always a factor in dealing with Senior, he came away feeling the need for a few showers and by the end of the day, sitting in a decontamination chamber for a few hours wouldn't hurt either.

Tim and Ziva were at their desks and looked up expectantly when Tony returned.

"Everything okay up there," Tim asked concerned.

"Fine! Look up the name Carlson and Folsom prison, get everything you can on this guy ASAP." McGee started typing on his keys.

"McGee, since Tony is playing at being the boss, why don't you tell him what you learned about his father's very young companion." Ziva teased.

Tony didn't refute the boss part, technically, she was right. "Let me guess," said Tony to deprive her of her dig. "She's his fiancé or his relatively new wife and her mother is Senior's ex-lover. She's possibly pregnant having the pool guy's baby and passing it off as Senior's or she's Senior's daughter and my half-sister and unbeknownst to her is having an incestuous relationship with her father. Or it could be some or all of the above. No big secret about that, Ziva, anything's possible with that man. I'm going to see Abby."

A confused expression crossed Ziva's face. Tony's list of Senior's faults had disarmed her thunder not because they might not be true but because he had admitted to them and had dismissed them as meaning nothing to him.

"She's not pregnant, is she?" Was all Ziva could muster to say but Tony just kept walking away.

"Is any of that true?" She looked to Tim for an answer

"Do you care, Ziva, really?" Tim didn't know anything about Senior and any speculation about the man could be left to Ziva if she was so inclined. He on the other hand would take the bull by the horns and hope that he wasn't making a big mistake.

"I'll be right back." Tim told Ziva before jumping up to follow Tony down to the lab. He made sure his computer programs were in searching mode before he left and the alert would go off on his phone if and when they found this Carlson.

He heard Ziva demand, "McGee, where are you going?!" but he just made for the elevator without answering. As it was, he missed the elevator by seconds so took the stairs instead and managed to arrive in Abby's lab not too long after Tony.

Ziva sat in the bullpen alone wondering what had just happened. Obviously, Tony could not take a joke. In a way, she missed the days past when Tony was...friendlier, had a thicker hide, put up with or overlooked some of her more challenging words. Now, he just turned his back and did not respond. She was...

...Suddenly, Ziva felt eyes on her but when she turned around, no one was there. Her critical eyes looked for subterfuge in all the corners but she saw nothing, however, the sense of being watched got heavier and was rather unpleasant. She searched the immediate area again, not turning her head but subtly moving her eyes and caught a glimpse of movement from above. Finally, she glanced up and just caught sight of Senior scurrying away from the glass railing to follow the security guard to the elevator.

She felt uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable with the senior DiNozzo in their midst again. Not only for hiding her knowledge of Senior's whereabouts in their last case but for the potential of being blackmailed by Senior himself. Because somehow Senior had found out that she had been the one who had had him followed and had not told the team, she just knew it. Tony's subsequent beating by several thugs and his hospital stay were directly the result of her holding back that information.

Even now, though she felt she was being paranoid, but she suspected that Tony knew this and probably Gibbs suspected as well but as yet they had no proof. Senior held her future in his hands. He was dangerous to her continued survival here on the job and her life style here away from Israel, her father and Mossad. She was not willing to give that up.

Beware, Senior! she vowed to herself. No one would take this life away from her without suffering the consequences...her way.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

A/N Italian translation from Google (sorry for any errors)

Tony: Why don't you hit me so I can have you locked up in jail for striking a Federal Government agent.

Senior: "You bastard, get away from me!"

Tony: "Then answer the question!"


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Six, Taken at face value

Tony made the trip to the elevator and down to the lab on autopilot. The outdated cellphone was burning a hole in his pocket and an itch in his mind as anxious as he was to get it analyzed and the users names sorted out.

Because whoever had made that call to his obsolete cell was someone he knew in the past or was somehow related to something he had done in the past. So what did he have? A woman, assuming it was a woman and not a man disguised as a woman with a foreign accent, makes a phone call. To him! That is if he was to take anything at face value that came out of Senior's mouth or anything he had to say without a grain of salt.

The dire call warning about a nefarious plot to cause large-scale murder and mayhem and nothing else that was helpful was not a whole lot to go on especially since Senior had sat on the information for who knew how long.

And why had he sat on the information for so long? Because he knew when the money would become available and showed up just in time to claim it with the cell phone message as an incentive for quick resolution on NCIS' part? Tony wouldn't put it past the man, his wants would always come first before anyone else's needs or safety, including the Nations security.

Another question had Tony pondering. Who at NCIS was Senior paying to be his stool pigeon and why? An inside informer to spy on him? It wasn't that farfetched, Senior had done it before, but why? And why was he feeling he was missing something?

Tony reached the lab engrossed in his thoughts and so preoccupied that when he slipped through the door he bumped into someone who looked a lot like McGee.

And sounded like him, too. "Tony. What's going on?"

"What're you doing down here, McGee. I gave you a direct order to..."

"Programs are running now," Tim explained. "I'll be notified by my phone if there's a hit." Tim held up his phone and managed not to take offense at DiNozzo's harsh tone.

"Oh, sorry," Tony sighed frustrated. "Got a lot going on right now."

"That's why I came down here. Tell me what's going on, maybe I can help? Say no and I'll be on the next flight to the bullpen."

Tony's erstwhile enemy, now partner Tim, stood trying to hide his nervousness but though there was no stutter, biting ones' lips was always a suspicious indicator. The senior agent realized this was a big step for Tim, taking the initiative rather than wait to be told what to do and ready to suffer the consequences, especially in the kinds of moods Gibbs could descend to.

Not only that but he himself could work to undermine Tim's relatively new confidence by scoffing at his attempts to help and sending him back to sit at his desk with the figurative tutors angry ruler marks across his knuckles. Tony wasn't going to turn down McGenius's offer, his pride wasn't that fragile so he didn't need to glare and growl like someone else they worked with. Besides, Tim was a great multi-tasker. He was fast and it was urgent and vital that the old battered cellphone got relieved of its secrets right away.

Tony slapped Tim on the back in camaraderie but didn't say anything, sure that Tim understood the gesture. They entered the lab and were greeted with eardrum blasting noise.

Abby was looking through a microscope at her work desk when Tony tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped but then relaxed when she saw who it was. They yelled back and forth at each other over the blast of what could barely be described as music until the sudden silence was a blessed event. Tim looked satisfied as he walked away from her boom box while the plug, pulled from its socket, lay idling uselessly on the floor.

Abby turned to glare at Tim. She would have turned off her latest CD, 'Warmed over Death', eventually, it was just more fun making the guys jump through hoops before she gave up the forensics.

"Hey, McGee! What have I told you about..."

"Abby." Tony interrupted the lab tech's beginning verbal pout by pulling the phone from his pocket and handing it over to her.

"I need you to take this old phone of mine apart and find out everything you can about who's been calling it. Senior stole it from me years ago but he's been paying the phone bill so it's still active.

'Why would Senior be..."

"Long story, Abby, tell you later, but someone's been calling me on this phone making threats about national security and the like. We know nothing about the caller. That's your job and McGee here is here to help. See what you can do." Tony was backing towards the door but before he turned around he gave her a warning that he knew would keep her on track.

"Don't know how far back you can go but...ah...some of the phone calls might be x-rated and pretty racy or...possibly just mildly titillating and not too graphic, well anyway, you know what I mean. Ignore those phone calls guys and stay on track, this is important. Call me if you find anything. You too Tim on that Carlson matter."

Tim and Abby watched him hurry away than shared a knowing glance.

"Did you get the impression that Senior was using this phone for...?"

"Oooh, phone sex, yeah I got it, McGee. Talk about dirty old men, ugh!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Okay, one nosy busybody lab rat down, Abby, and too many others to go. I should just write a biography so that anyone who cares can read my full life from conception to Agent and be done with it. Except, I'm pretty nosy myself so I can't blame Abby, Ziva and Tim when they snoop.

Tony reached the bank where the money he had deposited there to bait Senior was still in his account. Senior's spy teller had been fired and the bank President had offered profuse apologies and groveling and assured him that nothing like that would happen again, and please don't close out any of your lucrative accounts.

Tony had thought about it but ruled out the teller having made the calls to get back at him for reporting her crookedness and getting her fired. Granted, she and Senior were probably more than...acquaintances and she would have had access to Senior's phones among other things, but she had still been working when the phone calls had come in, no reason for her to be seeking revenge at that time.

Plus, he was just grasping at straws. No way was the flighty teller, easily influenced by greed, smart enough to have planned and able to carry out this still unknown major threat to the Country. No, what was left when everything else was eliminated was, someone from his Baltimore days had his old phone number and used it to try and contact him. Senior had interfered so he hadn't been notified in a timely matter and whoever had made the phone call had gotten impatient and called the FBI direct.

Tony waited for the cashier's check to be drawn up made out to Anthony DiNozzo, Senior; two million of the original four found hidden away at the mansion minus two hundred thousand for the IRS's share and Tony's due compensation for the stress-related ordeal of being robbed by Senior...his stress related ordeal of being robbed? And suddenly that elusive feeling came to fruition.

He had been robbed! Of a brand new phone, hadn't even started to carry it around yet. How could he have forgotten that! That's why he'd been so upset, the phone was just on the market, state of the art. He'd even stood in line in the rain to buy that phone. He had just gotten around to calling people giving them his new phone number but the only two people he'd managed to reach that night were his partner, Danny Price, and his childhood friend, Margaret 'Peggy Stratum' Ringold.

Tony got the check and since he hadn't eaten anything except a bagel this morning, stopped and picked up some sandwiches at the deli for the team for an early dinner. He started his drive back to work bewildered at this sudden past chain of events. Danny hadn't been the one who'd called or had someone call for him. He'd told Danny about the robbery and the cop had immediately deleted Tony's phone number from his own cell phone directory, never having a chance to memorize it.

That left Peggy. Margaret Ringold. It'd been years but if it was her, she'd obviously kept that number and thanks to Senior, the phone was active. He wasn't a cop in Baltimore anymore and she didn't know that he had become an NCIS agent or his whereabouts after leaving Baltimore so she or whoever her accomplice was couldn't reach him any other way. That had to be it.

Tony felt a headache coming on, stress and lack of nourishment the culprits for sure. There was going to be no other choice. He couldn't wait any longer for Peggy to make her move. The, 'I'll call you', note would not suffice any longer. They had to get to the bottom of this.

Plans formulated in his mind on how he could see Peggy without her husband's knowledge, because apparently she didn't want him to know, were eventually discarded. Throwing rocks at her bedroom window for her attention probably wouldn't work and climbing through the same window was out of the question as he wouldn't put it past Shane Ringold to shoot first and never ask questions. Tony was glad when his cell phone rang and interrupted his scrambled thoughts.

"DiNozzo, where are you?" came his Boss' disgruntled voice.

"On my way back, Boss. Got the cashier's check and..."

"Just get back here!" Gibbs abrupt phone hang up wasn't surprising but the annoyance in his voice was. What did the Boss think he had done now?

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Agent DiNozzo, how's Gibbs treating you?"

Senior security guard Gary was at the front desk when Tony arrived at the Navy Yard a few minutes after speaking to Gibbs. Gary had a beef with Gibbs after he escorted a witness to Balboa's team and had inadvertently witnessed what he thought was an overreaction dressing down of Gibbs to two of his agents, DiNozzo and that McGee.

It was none of his business but he still didn't like it. Tony was a good kid, helpful when his Lil had the stroke by bringing over several meals even staying to share them with him so he wouldn't have to eat alone. All that yelling Gibbs had displayed was uncalled for.

"No complaints, Gary, back down boy," Tony joked.

"You just give me the word, DiNozzo..."

"Gary, no offense, man, but you do realize Gibbs would sweep the floor with you, right?" Gary was ready to retire to sunny Florida and the stout man was long overdue to skedaddle.

"He could try!" Said Gary puffing up.

"Yeah, I know, you don't know your own strength, Mr T. But look, there's a man coming in to pick up this envelope. Get a photo ID, thumbprint and dental records before you hand it over, it's got over a million and a half dollars in it."

"Over a million, huh?" Gary hefted the slim envelope skeptically.

"Yeah, don't worry, its a cashier's check, one million eight, more or less."

"Who's the guy, DiNozzo, and what's the name of his dentist?"

Gary played along so seriously and was willing to pretend the preposterous request was legitimate without raising an eyebrow, that Tony felt his shoulders ease and the stress he'd been under all morning dissipate. He and Gary laughed together, did a silly hive-five handshake and then got back to work.

"Okay, you can forget the dental records. Just photo ID and thumbprint and a signature and don't let this get out but his name is Anthony DiNozzo, Senior, dear old dad. Don't take any crap, Gary, and once he's got the envelope in his hot little hand, you have my permission to kick his ass out of here."

"Hmmn, like that, is it, kid? No problem, Tony. I'll take care of it." Gary watched Tony trot to the elevator. Yeah, he'd take care of the kid's old man if he gave him any trouble.

"Tony, Tony, Tony!" A phenomenon in black, energetic and pushy, greeted him in the elevator on the way up.

"Tony, you're not going to guess..."

No, Tony wasn't playing games or humoring her, so no guessing. He wasn't Gibbs with the Caf-Pow, either, especially since he didn't know what was going on upstairs. She hadn't called and neither had McGee to warn him so he didn't have a clue.

"Sorry, Abby, not in the mood for guessing games today. Either tell me outright or save it until we get up stairs."

"Okay, geez, Tony, you're in a shitty mood. There were no messages," she said sounding aggrieved, "that we could recover. The phone's pretty ancient, technology wise, not the same as it is now. I'm still searching. I just wanted to tell you that the messages I could recover were pretty...well disgusting. Your old man's been using it as a cesspool...I'm not saying I'm adverse to phone sex, Tony, but he takes it to the next level of degenerate, ugh, and..."

"It's okay, Abby, call off the search for now."

"But, but, Tony..." Abby sputtered as she stood in front of him.

Tony patted her arm than stepped around her when the door opened and left her behind, mouth open, on the elevator. He headed to the bullpen, his desk, and the latest potential yelling screaming match he expected to have with Gibbs, cause unknown.

And surprise. Agents Fornell and Sacks stood by the stairs, Director Vance on the stairs. Ziva was at her desk drinking something frothy in a ceramic cup so he couldn't see her expression. McGee looked panicky and tried to catch his eye with a subliminal message that he didn't catch and Gibbs sat quietly smirky.

"Agent Fornell, what a surprise...Sacks, you too. Good to see you." Tony deadpanned.

"Wonderful to see you, too, DiNozzo." Fornell's genial greeting was in stark contrast to Sacks pissed off look.

"What's going on, Boss?" Tony put the sack of sandwiches on his desk then turned around to face the music.

"It seems we have a conflict of interest with the FBI, DiNozzo." Vance answered the question for Gibbs.

"Don't look so smug, Jethro." Fornell warned Gibbs, evidently having taken notice of the NCIS agent's subtle gloating.

"Your boy McGee here is slated for a cell at Gitmo. You won't think it's so funny and neither will he, I guarantee it, after spending thirty years using a pickaxe to break up hard rock in the sweat of his brow!"

Everyone could hear McGee gulp and choke on a suddenly dry mouth.

"Don't listen to him, McGee. You did nothing wrong," spoke up Vance dryly.

"Is anyone going to put me out of my misery and tell me what McGee didn't do wrong."

"Yes, DiNozzo and without me here. Sort it out, Gibbs." Vance turned abruptly and went back up the stairs at a steady clip while Gibbs got up from his desk and approached Tony and the bag of sandwiches. He helped himself to the one on top, unwrapped it and started to eat.

"Help yourself, Gibbs." Tony muttered sarcastically under his breath knowing that sandwich was his and the only pastrami on rye in the bag.

"Sweat of his brow, Tobias?" said Gibbs after swallowing a mouth full of food.

"Sounded good."

"Excuse me for taking this seriously," said a very annoyed Sacks, "but you guys just interfered in an ongoing surveillance and investigation by the FBI. Hacking into the FBI's data base is a Federal offense and..."

"They found out more information than we had in six-months, Sacks. Just let it go and you and I both know it wasn't hacking, not this time, anyway." Fornell sounded almost plaintive, beaten out by the other agency once again.

"It seems when we started searching for info on the name Carlson...in NCIS's database, by the way," McGee gave Sacks a look of haughty disdain, "the search triggered flags in our shared database accessible to both agencies and the CIA, CGIS, NSA..."

"Okay, McGee, we get the point. There was no hacking. Just a slip of the tongue, right Sacks?" Sacks just grunted his reply. "Any place we can talk private,Gibbs?"

The group settled in a secure room. The Senior FBI agent grabbed an empty chair and filled Tony in. "I understand Senior gave you the name of 'Carlson' that the anonymous woman caller gave him. We know something is going on in that prison related to arms dealing and the selling of plutonium.

"The guy we're concerned with is named Madison, he's not getting out of prison 'til he's dead but he's got a following, inside and out, including a couple of brothers and a sister. Father and mother are deceased, killed in a raid by FBI agents. They just wouldn't give up and fought to the bitter end. The mother was found dead laying on top of her young children after she took the bullets to save them. The children were unhurt, they grew up hating and that family never forgot or forgave.

"We, meaning the FBI..."

Fornell looked extremely uncomfortable now at what he was about to tell them. It went against every grain in his body to reveal this because the fewer people that knew about it the better. But NCIS and Gibbs and his team wouldn't stop pursuing the case unless they were read in.

"What's got those in the know extremely anxious, Gibbs, is that we have a man deep undercover in that prison. Been there for eight months and he slips out what little information he can get. It's slow work and his life is in extreme danger. You know that the more people who know the less chance he has for survival. They find out he's a snitch his life wouldn't be worth shit."

"We know this Agent personally," volunteered Sacks. "It's not a joke. If you do anything to compromise his position..." He left the rest unsaid, just scrubbed his hand over his face and turned away.

"Ron," Fornell gently chastised. "You know these people. In spite of your ongoing antipathy with DiNozzo, they're professionals, like us. They need to know what's going on so they don't put our man's life in danger or compromise the sting."

"You knew we were working a case involving a prison and some mysterious woman and you didn't think you're opt was something we should know, Fornell?" Gibbs figured someone had dropped the ball and it wasn't NCIS.

"No way to connect the two, until now, Gibbs. The woman who called the FBI didn't give up a name." The FBI wasn't taking the blame, either.

Everyone remained silent after that, acknowledging the seriousness of the situation.

"Boss, I can back out of the searching mode, make it look like we were looking for a Carson, ' N', not Carlson, and we already found our man, in case anyone is keeping track." Volunteered McGee.

"Fornell?" Gibbs looked at his friend. "Will that help?"

"Yeah, that'll help. We've got to figure out where to go from here. We'll leave our man in place as long as we can but..."

"I've got something." Said Tony, all reluctance to share personal information gone.

All eyes turned expectedly toward him. "Senior stole my phone, nothing new there. I was going to use it as my personal phone. Baltimore police provided their own phones.

The phone was brand new and I had just gotten it when he stole it. Guess he liked all the pretty colors and doodads."

"What about it, DiNozzo?" Gibbs queried.

"You don't get it, the thing was new, brand new. I'd just stood in line at midnight in the rain for that phone and hadn't had a chance to give the number out to anyone except two people, my partner Danny Price and Peggy Stratum.

"Peggy Stratum as in Margaret Stratum Ringold, the best friend?" Ziva sounded not surprised, more, 'what did you expect'?

"Yeah, that Peggy," Tony replied choosing to ignore her tone.

"It's got to be her. I was with Danny when he deleted that number from his phone. It wasn't him."

That put the FBI Director's niece's best friend at the top of their list of persons of interest.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Seven, Brain freeze

Ziva was tired of waiting. Of holding herself back. Of biting her tongue. Of wanting to dislodge gore every time she must say yes when she meant an emphatic no! Her mind was like an iceberg she had to plow through, whichever way she thought was the right way, there was still ice.

She was disappointed and angry, her father was enraged. People in Mossad, her father's associates, were laughing behind his back at her failures to achieve any of the things he had sent her to do. The disparaging, belittling remarks...was she even his daughter anymore? His beloved daughter he had once called her, the best part of the sword?

Instead, the horrible descent from mildly exasperated and chiding of his only remaining child to the harsh, derogatory, ruthless putting-down he had launched like a deadly blade at her had managed to astound and yes, even shock her into silence. Foul language that he had used on the phone last night, that he only used on disgraced or hated underlings, was still singeing her ears. She felt sick.

Her only option was to revert back to her true self. Forget the mamby-pamby, feeble and cowardly behavior of women who had no pride or ability in self. If she stepped on digits or hurt Tony DiNozzo's feelings, and she sneered at the thought, then let her get fired. So be it! What more could her father feel beside contempt, she could sink no lower in his eyes.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Previously on NCIS

That put the FBI Director's niece Kathy's best friend Peggy at the top of their list of persons of interest.

"Well, that's a doozy." Fornell expelled air loudly from his lungs. "This is just great! The niece's best friend, huh?"

"Shall we drop every other avenue of investigation to marathon with Tony's theory? Perhaps we are making a fatal error by pursuing just the one suspect?"

"That would be 'run' with my theory, Ziva, not marathon."

DiNozzo's gentle mocking was infectious as smiles appeared and left to be undetected by the frowning woman.

"And it would be great if we had another suspect," he continued. "Do we have another suspect?"

Ziva gave a negligent shrug and did not answer, as neither did anyone else.

"That's what I thought."

"What are we stalling for? Why don't we just bring this Peggy, Margaret, whatever, in and question her, find out what she knows." Sacks stood to the side vibrating anger and impatience.

"We can't just barge in like Neanderthals, Sacks..."

"Why not, DiNozzo? You don't want to do it, we'll bring your girlfriend in. We can interrogate just as well as you and find out what she's trying to hide and..."

"Ron!" Fornell called his agent back from going too far before tempers rose and became volatile.

"Go take a break, Ron."

"What?!"

"Do you want me to make it an order, Agent Sacks?"

Sacks left without another word with a withering glare to everyone in the room.

"Will I be expelled from the room also if I express my belief that Agent Sacks is right, Gibbs?" Sardonicism coming from Ziva suddenly fit her recent elusive mood and McGee glanced at her briefly as her attitude brought back unpleasant memories of trembles and stutters, his father, and his fears.

Gibbs had also taken note recently that Ziva seemed to be reverting back to her original snappishness. That, 'who cares, I'm better,' attitude that he would not tolerate this time around. She sounded different and that had caught Gibbs' silent attention. It was an anomaly in an otherwise unobtrusive past few months. That tone of voice, reserved for those inheriting position by right of birth, a Queen for instance, had crept back into her speech and her look of arrogance, 'uppity', his mother would have said, was back. What had happened?

"You got something constructive to say, Ziva, say it." Gibbs had let Fornell deal with his out of control agent in his own way by sending him out of the room. His way with his agents would be another way, stay and defend your position.

Nothing stirred in the room except the drip, drip from the perking coffee pot and the circulating thermostatically controlled air. Ziva looks around the room coolly collected then breaks the silence.

"I do not have anything of relevance and that is the point, yes? But very well, we still need answers. If we are to proceed with Mrs Ringold she must be questioned. Subterfuge seems the only solution. I keep abreast of the Society pages and I recall the Ringold name being mentioned. They are hosting a fund-raiser and silent auction for 'Help Everyone World Society' or HEWS, children with TB campaign. Members of the Israeli government will attend. I will be able to get an invitation. Perhaps she would talk to me?"

Gibbs showed his interest by minutely changing his position in the chair, moving a little closer to the table. "Your saying try getting her alone and grilling her, Ziva?"

"That won't work, Gibbs." Tony jumped in. "I told you what Shane Ringold is like, a possessive, stalking husband who knows where she is at every moment and monitors her every move and every word out of her mouth."

"That is no reason to disregard my suggestion without due thought, Tony. There are ways to distract the husband so that Mrs Ringold can be approached."

"Fine, then you distract the husband, Ziva, and I'll approach Peggy." Tony knew, through no fault of her own, that Ziva could not talk to Peggy. Peggy right now was coming across as the weak-kneed, fainting woman needing a man to get her out of trouble, unable to help herself. That was not someone Ziva could relate to.

But Tony knew Peggy was not like that, something else had to be going on for her to behave as though she had no backbone. Ziva David did not know Peggy or what she was capable of and she especially did not have that fellow feeling of vulnerability. The bottom line was Ziva did not have the ability to ferret out any information from Peggy with anything other than with the use of violence.

"I can not get an invitation for you, Tony. You will have to sit this one out in the van for a change. It is up to you, Gibbs." Ziva announced perfunctorily then sat back in her chair as though bored with the whole subject.

Fornell broke the uneasy silence. "Sounds doable, Gibbs. So, we need a distraction, tear the jerk away from the wife somehow and keep him occupied, right?"

Fornell was sanguine about the plan, it was a good one. But like DiNozzo, he found one insurmountable cog in the operation, a diplomat Ziva was not. He couldn't see sending her in to encourage answers out of someone with any degree of patience, empathy or subtlety on her part.

A frustrated Tony objected vehemently. Physical violence would not produce the answers they sought. He tried getting his point across again.

"I'm sorry but no, it won't work. Getting her alone with Ziva and subjecting her to intense interrogation and fear tactics I can guarantee won't work on her. She's not afraid of anything, or at least she hadn't use to be. Sorry, Ziva, but we need someone soft, persuasive..."

"Like you, Tony?"

Yeah, like me, Tony thought truthfully, when it mattered. Someone soft and persuasive like me that can defend himself against the likes of you. And he couldn't help it, his mind went back to the last poor sap of a female agent who became mysteriously ill after being chosen over you, Ziva.

Tony was aware of Ziva's unblinking stare as though daring him to answer her question. He ground his teeth in annoyance. Her displeasure was always close to the surface ready to erupt when she didn't like something said or done. It could tire one out to homicidal thoughts.

McGee felt an unpleasant déjà vu moment. Something still unresolved in his mind about that other agent who had gotten so sick. Tim's feelings of guilt resurfaced for still thinking that Ziva had done something to that other agent. Was that why Tony was so reluctant to use her?

"Soft and persuasive?" mused Fornell, as though he didn't feel the undercurrent of troubled vibes in the room.

"We've got someone like that, Agent Samantha Lee. Great at undercover work, soft and persuasive one minute, hard as titanium nails the next. Samantha Lee, yeah she would work."

"Lee could get her away with some...womanly thing or other to the ladies room than question her or better yet, let her know that Tony needs to talk to her, set up a time and place where they could meet..." Was McGee's thoughtful playing out of that scenario.

"We could have..."

"... her husband find out, McGee? That's what we're trying to avoid." Gibbs got up for a fresh cup of coffee once his sensitive ears had picked up the drip had stopped.

"Yeah, well it may just come to that. We're running out of time, Gibbs!" Fornell yelled at his retreating back. They were talking about a potential National security and the safety of his undercover agent, and the man needed to suck down some coffee. If this woman, Margaret Ringold, knew something, it was well past time for her to spill her guts before people got hurt. In this case, the good of the many is what counted, even if it meant using Ziva David. He'd sacrifice Mrs Ringold and hall her ass into the FBI interrogation room without a qualm and be damned about the good of the one.

"She doesn't want her husband to know." Tony felt like he was belaboring the point to an unhearing, not getting the point audience.

"There's a reason for that, maybe Ringold's involved somehow or someone she knows and loves." Tony just knew deep down that Shane Ringold was a force unknown and somehow involved in something that was terrifying his wife. They needed to use kid gloves or they'd be walking on cracked eggshells, to use a Ziva euphemism.

Gibbs was not happy, they weren't getting anywhere with all the talk. He turned to Ziva,

"See if you can get that invite, Ziva, one with guest included if possible. We can't do anything until we know for sure we can get in there."

"You are unaware of one thing." Ziva informed them smugly. "I can and will get the invitation but only my name will be on the card and people will know me there. If anyone other than myself, meaning any undercover agent, attempts to use the written document, they will not be allowed inside and could possibly be detained by security police. I have gone to these functions before and even have been involved in setting up security for Israeli dignitaries. I know how it works. I will be more than..."

"Wait, wait." Tony waved his hand, he had something, a better idea his instinct was telling him.

"Let me talk to Kathy first, you know, the FBI Director's niece? She and Peggy Ringold are best friends, if anyone knows anything it would be her."

"We do not have time for you to play a singing and strolling guitarist to the lady, Tony. Our time is limited, surely you remember that?"

"It's, 'I have no time to serenade the lady', Ziva, a noun, meaning a piece of music sung or played in the open air, mostly to one's lover. And if that's what your inference is, why am I not surprised? Kathy is not..."

"DiNozzo!" Exasperated, Gibbs interrupted the confrontation mid-start. For good measure, he threw in glares at both agents and their constant trivial disagreements and tug of war antics.

"Get on with it! What's your idea?" He questioned.

Tony didn't blink an eye at Gibbs' annoyance. "Just what I said. I'll call her, tell her I miss the triplets and she'll invite me over to see them. I'll go from there."

"That simple?" Asked McGee, doubtful it would be that easy. "She might not know anything..."

"Then again, she just might. Gibbs?"

"Do it, the sooner, the better!" Gibbs ordered, and watched as DiNozzo left the office to make the call.

"This had better work, Gibbs. I just hope this Margaret...this woman's sensibilities are not more important to you than my agent in prison if his cover's blown."

"Yeah, I know, Fornell. Your man is still in lockup. McGee, get busy erasing any searches or references for Carlson, substitute Carson and indicate he was found if anyone's looking."

"On it, Boss." McGee also fled the room.

"All this is fine, Gibbs, but let's not make this too complicated and let's get one thing straight. DiNozzo gets some information by tomorrow or we're hauling Margaret Stratum into interrogation at the Hoover Building for some answers, one way or another!" Fornell didn't exactly storm out of the room but he wasn't skipping in joy either.

"Anything you wish me to do, Gibbs?" He had basically forgotten the quiet, remote woman by his side.

"Yeah, get that invite, Ziva" Gibbs ordered and the meeting was over.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Hey, Kath, how are you? What's the word from the Imperial Storm Troopers of the Grand Army of the Republic?"

"Tony, stop! You and Carl. Do you know he has little outfits all picked out for Halloween including the masks, jumpsuits and gloves? I put my foot down at the miniature Oozies. And guess what, he wants me to be a Wookie."

"Oooh, can I play?"

"Oh brother, why do I even bother? Guess who he's going as?"

"Darth Vader," said Tony in a sibilant growl.

Kathy Vigil chuckled softly over the phone as she left the children napping in their room.

"You coming by, Tony, the boys would love to see you?"

"I'm sure they would, Kath," Tony said dryly. "Are you free now, I need to have a word with you?"

"Boys will sleep for a couple of hours, what's going on? It's not Carl, is it?"

"Nothing to do with Carl, Kathy, calm down. No, it's something personal."

Thirty minutes later Tony was seated comfortably on the sofa with coffee and sandwiches in front of him on the coffee table. He was embarrassed at how hungry he was devouring a whole sandwich in a few bites.

Kathy didn't comment but she looked concerned.

"If you can wait, I'll have the cook grill an extra chicken breast I was going to have for dinner, Tony."

"Sorry, I'm good, busy with a case, forgot to eat. Listen, Kath, I'm not going to beat around the bush. Something's going on, possibly national security is at stake and it may involve Peggy."

Kathy couldn't look more disbelieving than if he said the moon was on fire melting its green cheese. He filled her in as best he could without revealing more than she needed to know.

"Tony, I know nothing about a phone call to your cell or anything else you're talking about. Peggy never confided anything to me, that is, when her creep of a husband lets her talk." Kathy had no love for Shane Ringold, either.

"That's the funny thing, Kath. I've never known Peggy to be a carpet and yet she lets this guy walk all over her. There's got to be a reason, a good reason for her...fear?"

"I agree, Tony, she's been a fighter since I've known her and always for the other guy."

Kathy sat vibrating with excitement. "Wait, someone with a heavy accent, hmmm. That could be Peggy's maid, Yonta. She's been with Peggy for years. She has a deep voice and a heavy Spanish accent, it could have been her," Kathy said hopefully.

Kathy got a conspiratorial look, "I could invite her over..."

"No! Kath, I don't want you to get involved. This is dangerous stuff." And just to make sure, he threw in, "You've got those boys to look after."

Her eyes widened, she got the point. All excitement left as she realized this wasn't a game. Now, instead of trying to join in on a little detour from her housewife and motherly duties, she texted him a family picnic photo with Peggy and Shane present and Yonta in the background, gave him her days off and the gym that she liked to frequent where she practiced yoga, and most important, the passwords Kathy and Peggy had cooked up to send messages to each other.

"We started it as a game to fool Shane and we included Yonta when it got more apparent that Shane was a psychotic sociopath. Just say this sentence and anything after that is the truth. Without them, everything is suspect and, Tony, the password changes every week."

And without cracking even the tendril of a smile, she said this weeks words were, "Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto," and dared him to laugh.

Tony felt the irony and the humor bubbling deep in his bones, that's why he and Kathy Vigil and her husband Carl got along so well, they were of like mind. They got him. But Kathy was dead serious now. Thoughts of her children's safety was paramount and she bowed out of anything else, no snooping, nothing.

"And don't mention my visit to Peggy, Kath, you understand?"

"Absolutely!" She wasn't stupid, her children and her husband were her life, they came first.

Just then the call of the boys waking up drew their attention. The triplets, who missed their father away at sea, wanted Tony's attention as the big man who threw them in the air and played with them. Tony indulged his inner fatherliness and played a little before getting back to the real world.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony DiNozzo was at a conundrum and procrastinating never worked to solve it. He had to talk to Peggy and soon. Should he try seeking out the maid first and did he have the time? Or aim directly for the bulls eye, Peggy?

Since today was Yonta the maids gym day and the time was right Tony decided to try her first. He drove to the facility and went inside to get a free one day pass and skulked around in the gym shorts and t-shirt he bought for an outrageously expensive price at the sports shop. He spotted the middle-aged woman as he sped on the treadmill set to a breathtaking uphill run, right away as she entered her yoga class.

An hour later, showered and dressed, he sat at the sports bar waiting with his glass of 'SomethingGreen' concoction the pretty barista had said he needed more than coffee after a vigorous workout. Yonta and two of her friends came in and stood chatting in line to order their drinks.

Tony passed by and clumsily bumped into her spilling some of his nasty green stuff and in between apologizing profusely for her stained dress and rubbing at the spot with his handkerchief, he whispered, feeling just a tad bit foolish,

"Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto, and then, "Reunirse conmigo en la sala de observacion de la piscina.

He was barely there before she rushed in. "Lo que ha sucedido? Es Margaret bien?"

"Margaret's alright, Yonta. I'm Tony DiNozzo. Kathy Vigil gave me the code words."

Then on a hunch, he stated, "You called me, didn't you, Yonta?"

Without batting an eye and with an expulsion of breath, she said, "Sí, fui yo," as though finally relieved of a heavy burden.

"Well, I'm here. Tell me what's going on, por favor, dime qué está pasando."

"Usted debe ayudar! Usted es nuestra última esperanza!

NCIS NCIS NCIS

A/N Google translation (sorry for any errors)

Reunirse conmigo en la sala de observacion de la piscina - Meet me in the pool observation room.

Lo que ha sucedido? Es Margaret bien? - What has happened? Is Margaret alright?

Sí, fui yo. - Yes, it was I.

Usted debe ayudar! Usted es nuestra última esperanza! - You must help us! You are our last hope!

'Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto' is from the 1951 movie directed by Robert wise - The Day The Earth Stood Still.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warning: same as Chapter One

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Eight, wrack the brain

Previously on NCIS

"Usted debe ayudar! Usted es nuestra última esperanza! You must help us! You are our last hope!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"What must I help you with? Who else are you talking about? Talk to me, Yonta! Háblame!"

"Not here! I can not spend too much time here, I am followed. This is a, como se dice, how do you say, 'quemar número de teléfono?"

"Burn phone number," Supplied Tony, at this point not even curious about how she knew about them or had gotten her hands on one.

"Si, a burn phone number," she said, as she hurriedly wrote a phone number down on a piece of paper.

"Call this number esta noche a las once."

"Eleven o'clock tonight, right."

"Si. I will throw it away once I use it. I must go! Gracias, Señor." And the almost desperate woman, who had entered the room as though her life depended on it, took a deep yoga breath, steadied her nerves and walked from the room calmly sedate.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony stayed around another half hour talking to his treadmill partner and getting her number before leaving the premises to give Yonta a good head start if there were men trailing her, of which he had no doubt.

It was late when he got back to the office. Gibbs was at his desk using a red pen to mark up somebody's report or other. McGee sat correcting his report and Ziva's report was on her desk though the female agent was not. Tony figured his report was the one Gibbs was massacring so vigorously.

"Took you long enough, DiNozzo."

Great, Tony thought, Gibbs is in a grumpy mood. He'd called and given him an update, what more did he want?

"What are you guys still doing here?"

"Waiting for you, DiNozzo, what'd ya think?"

"Oh yeah, right. Well, I missed lunch and dinner so I stopped and got a pizza if that's okay," he snapped back. He'd not only got a pizza from Mom and Pop but a full coarse Italian dinner and two hours of a catnap when he laid his head on the table half way through his meal and fell asleep.

"Fine, DiNozzo, but while you were stuffing your face, Senior was having a temper tantrum downstairs." Gibbs was slowly tapping his pen on the desk, a sure sign of his annoyed impatience, before throwing it to the side and reaching into his top desk drawer. "Here's the envelope you left for Senior. Gary thought it prudent to bring it up here."

"What the hell, happened? He was just supposed to get his money and leave!"

Tony took the envelope then went behind his desk to sit and, undercover of slipping the envelope in his inner jacket pocket and putting his gun and badge away, closed his eyes in a moment of sheer frustrated helplessness. He couldn't get that old man out of his life. And he wanted him out, permanently.

"What happened?" He repeated and slammed the drawer shut with a bang harder than he expected .

"Ah, Tony...he's in lockup." Tim said uncomfortably. "Drunk and disorderly. Gary in security tried to get him to walk it off before handing over the envelope you left but Senior insisted he wanted it now. Gary wanted some ID and took a thumbprint before handing over the envelope and that infuriated Senior further.

"Gary said that when Senior got a look inside the envelope he lost it altogether. He was screaming about the cashier's check in the envelope being a worthless piece of paper, not cash and started accusing you and Gary of stealing all his money. He tried slugging Gary with a water bottle he'd been drinking out of and spilled what turned out to be Vodka not water all over the floor and Gary. Gary managed to take him down without too much fuss. That's when he was detained and locked up, yelling, kicking and screaming. Eventually he passed out and is sleeping it off in a holding cell now."

Tim had gotten all the bad news out in one breath without his coworkers trying to hurry him up or shut him down.

"Is Gary alright?"

"That old curmudgeon is fine," said Gibbs who suspected the man didn't like him much but for the life of him, didn't know why.

"Yeah," Tim said. "Gary called up here while you were out to tell you what was going on. He said Senior was asking to talk to Ziva so she had gone down to see what he wanted."

"Of course she did," said Tony as he dialed the burn phone number, dismissing his father and his issues and Ziva and her's from his mind for the present.

"I'm making the call now and putting it on speaker phone. Yonta speaks excellent English but it seems when she's upset she reverts to her Native tongue Spanish so..."

"Then it is a good thing I have returned," announced a self-assured and composed Ziva as she came to stand by Tony's desk. "I will act as interpreter and perhaps we can get to the bottom of this mystery with this maiden in distress you have acquired, yes, Tony?"

"She's married, Ziva." The phone had rung several times and by the time it reached ten rings Tony was anxiously convinced that something had gone wrong and no one would answer.

"Ah, married. You are a knight in shining armor, meaning your conscious will bother you so you will not preposition her?"

"It's proposition. And no, meaning she's a married woman not a maiden or damsel and I'm the fairy tale prince not the knight.

Seeing the confusion that marred Ziva's face, Tony got the grimmest of satisfaction considering the circumstances. Her insults were never ending and straightforward, very easy to understand. As though he had it in him to stoop so low and further traumatize the victim; preposition her, indeed!

But he got back at her, sometimes leaving her confused and befuddled over what he said and its meaning. Her inability to discern the fanciful limited her clear understanding of his nonsensical uttering's because she didn't have the imagination to go beyond Mossad 101 to his Peter Panish delight.

"What do you mean...?" She started, before someone finally answered the burn phone.

"Hola, Tony?"

"Si, Yonta. Gort Klaatu Barada Nikto."

They continued in Spanish with Yonta accepting the ridiculous code words before asking him repeatedly to wait, saying someone was coming, and that person would be in extreme danger if it were found out what they were doing. It was obvious after a few minutes of conversation that Tony was fluent in Spanish and Ziva had egg on her face again.

"Aguarde por favor."

"I'm waiting, Yonta."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Finally, a different woman's voice came on the line and bemoaned,"Tony, oh, Tony!"

Peggy Stratum aka Margaret Ringold sounded desperate. She paused and caught her breath and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger, determined.

"Please, don't say anything,Tony, let me tell you this quickly as I can not stay on the phone long. Jorge Carlson is Yonta's son. His father was stationed in Cartagena where he met Yonta and they got married and had Jorge. Jorge and I met when I was in boarding school where Yonta worked as an art teacher. We grew up and fell in love and were engaged to be married.

"Jorge's father was killed in a helicopter accident and we moved back to the States. Jorge served as a seal and then joined the FBI. I got my PHD, then was hired by the NSA."

Here she paused and Tony heard a sob quickly silenced as though to continue was unbearable but necessary.

"Tony...the worst day of my life happened. I was out with some friends, just for drinks and dinner maybe a little dancing later. Oh god, Tony, Shane Ringold approached my table to greet some people he knew then on my way back from the ladies room he stepped in front of me and said he had been watching me at other functions and thought we could have fun together. He was drunk, said I should leave the group I was with and go 'party,' with him. I said no, I was in a relationship, but he was pretty persistent wouldn't let me pass until a security guard came up and escorted me back to my friends. They didn't make Shane leave, he owned the restaurant, so I and my friends left.

"I thought that was the end of it, Tony, but the next day, I got a card and flowers sent to my office and after that gifts were sent to my home. He had my work and home addresses and even got my cell phone number. He kept sending me these expensive gifts, scarves, jewelry, purses. I kept returning them but he didn't take the hint. Finally, I told him to stop harassing me or I'd call the police, which I ended up doing and I didn't go in blind. I had documentation and witnesses. He had money and got off with a wrist slap.

"Two years went by with nothing from Shane. Then Jorge went undercover and we didn't know how long he'd be gone or where he was going. And somehow, Shane found out and he came back."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The team listened quietly without interruption letting her talk at her own pace. Shane Ringold had come back into Peggy's life with a vicious bang, vindictive and determined to have what he wanted no matter the circumstances.

"Tony, he told me he knew where Jorge was and what he was doing. He showed me pictures of him in prison uniform behind bars and in the exercising area. He said he knew Jorge was undercover and all it would take was one phone call and Jorge would be brutally tortured and then murdered in the prison. He said I could run to the FBI but they wouldn't be able to get to him in time, he'd be dead before they could find the key to unlock his cell door. And he bragged about knowing what Jorge's assignment was, trying to prevent another prisoner from getting access to a nuclear bomb ready to detonate over a major city in the US.

"Shane said the only way to keep Jorge safe was that I become Mrs Shane Ringold. I was horrified. I secretly met with Jorge's best friend at the FBI, or at least I thought it was secret, and told him what was going on. He said he'd help, make discrete inquires. Tony, two days later Jorge's friend was dead, struck by a hit-and-run car in the morning hours.

"I married Shane the next day in Vegas."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Peggy, will you be alright there, you and Yonta, while we figure out what to do?"

"Yes, we will be alright. Shane thinks he has the upper hand. He thinks I am afraid of him and that I will never go against him. I hate him passionately and if not for Jorge, I would kill him now, stab him in the chest this moment and gut him and slash his heart to shreds...but enough. I can't expose him, Tony, he said his associates would have Jorge killed if anything happened to him. I am not a coward!" She cried out decisively, with strength of steel in her voice.

"But my hands are tied." She continued. "Jorge's life is at stake but I can not ignore the threat to the Country either. I can't make the decision to expose that threat and get Jorge killed, I can not do it!" She sobbed over the phone at her wits end and desperate and he heard Yonta's voice in the background trying to comfort her.

"Will you help us?" Yonta eventually came back on the line to plead for help, not for her, but for the safety of her family.

"Yes, Yonta, Peggy, we're going to help, you are not alone in this. How do I reach you again?"

"We have another burn phone. Here is Peggy, she will give you the new password."

"Sorry, Tony." Peggy's voice on the line again was strained but strong.

"Its just such a relief, knowing there is someone to talk to...to help. But, anyway, here's the new password, 'Bond, James Bond'."

Tony's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Good choice, Peggy." And they both laughed a little, just a touch of humor, a little comic relief from the stress.

Tony hung up the phone after promising to call back tomorrow same time.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

After the line went dead, no one spoke but everyone turned to look at Gibbs. The enormity of this case was evident to everyone and what could go wrong and what was at stake. Gibbs didn't need a long time to think.

"I'm calling Fornell! They've got a leak somewhere over there in their vaunted Hoover building and that leak is in touch with someone in the prison who is keeping Ringold informed about the FBI's undercover agent and the secret op that isn't so secret, dammit!"

Gibbs dialed Fornell's number hoping he woke him up from a sound sleep with happy dreams and his team listened in on the one-sided conversation.

"You've got a leak or a mole, Tobias, so no, it couldn't wait! Yeah, it's that bad that I had to wake you up, at least you're home and asleep. Shane Ringold knows all about your undercover agent in prison. Your undercover agent's partner, the hit-and-run victim...it was murder.

"Thought you'd think so. Expect you here in the morning, 0900 is fine."

"I know it's important but my team hasn't gone to bed yet so don't bother coming over here now or any earlier, we won't be here."

Gibbs hung up without a goodbye and looked over at his waiting team. "You heard me, go home. Be back at nine. Find out about this best friend of Carlson's. Hit and run, right! I don't like coincidences because there is no such thing."

"What about you, Boss?" Tim said as he closed down and packed up.

"Right behind you after I call Vance. Might as well wake him up too."

"And Senior?" Tony asked quietly.

"What about him, DiNozzo? He's locked up for legitimate reasons. You want him cut loose?" asked an irritated Gibbs.

Equally irritable, Tony answered back shortly, "Yeah, I want him cut loose...to fall off the face of the planet! But that's not going to happen so..."

"Then he'll stay where he is tonight and let a judge decide tomorrow if there are no objections!" was Gibbs' curt response.

"No, none," said Tony with no heat. No sense in taking his frustration out on Gibbs. Senior could stay locked up for life, which in Tony's opinion was a just punishment for what he had done those many years ago but Tony immediately cut that thought from his mind, he wasn't going down that path again. Funny how he could take down the vilest of criminals but couldn't take down the veil covering his father's misdeeds without a major fugue attack and deep despondency.

Tony headed out behind McGee and David arriving at the elevator just as the doors opened. The three rode down together, all pretty exhausted from the long stressful day at work.

"I am sure you are interested in what your father wanted, Tony, no?" Ziva glanced at Tony straight on, a bold, all encompassing look. She had knowledge he was sure to want.

"Shall we three stop for a coffee and I will tell you about it?"

She would bring Senior up, thought Tim. Didn't they have enough angst? "Not me unless the coffee cup is bed-size and I can crawl into it with a blanket."

"Do you know how weird that sounds, McCounting sheep? Can you drive home in the state you're in?" Tony made fun of Tim around a huge gaping yawn.

"Look who's talking, DiNozzo." But Tim was too tired to argue the point further.

Unbelievably, Tony was not answering, was he refusing her offer? "Am I to understand that you are not interested enough in what your father had to say to take me up on my offer of a coffee break, Tony? I will pay."

Tony turned and stared down at her with narrowed eyes as though the cost of an eight ounce cup of coffee was an Einstein moment to be considered, calculated and retained or rejected. Ziva was uncomfortably aware of his close scrutiny but managed not to show it. She wondered what he was really thinking with such a closed off expression. It frustrated her that she could not penetrate that dense skin of his and read him. Who would have thought it possible of Mr Meatball?

Inhaling deeply, Tony finally broke his intense gaze and looked away from her, staring at the double doors of the elevator instead.

"You've got that right, Ziva, for a change. I'm not interested. So unless you want to tell me here and now what you think you know about Senior than I'm not sticking around for a cup of coffee or anything else and I'll see you tomorrow."

"I am somewhat confused, Tony. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, that is a universal truism, yes? Senior is obviously your enemy but I, acting as a go-between, could perhaps help resolve some of your thinly disguised but mutual antipathy towards each other and..."

"Who is acting as go-between for your thinly disguised but mutual antipathy towards Director Eli David, Ziva? Look up the word hypocrite. I'd say neither one of us should attempt to go that route, 'yes'?" He mocked.

Which statement, of course, had Ziva's hackles up and temper ready to fly. But not wanting to get into it any further with this woman who failed anger management each and every time, Tony tried, once again, to warn her off Senior.

"Look, Ziva. My father is a con artist, true to his nature like a snake, a python who'll swallow you whole, the best at what it does and I've heard it all before. Don't be taken in by his smooth talk. He's got your number already, he knows exactly how much he can get from you before using you up and throwing you away."

He saw her stubbornly start to reject his hurried advice knowing he had to get it all out before she cut him off. To sidestep any argument because the facts weren't up to debate, he walked out of the opening elevator door with his warning parting words thrown over his shoulder.

"He's bad news, Ziva, but you do what you want. Just don't try to involve me!"

With that, Tony stormed off to his car, with the unmistakeable warning to leave him alone.

Ziva looked around but McGee had disappeared too. Her plan to cause a little mischief with Tony the butt of the joke had failed but there was always tomorrow. She had known before the animosity between Senior and Tony went deep but now, she had finally found the one thing that seemed to rattle Tony and cause him to respond. DiNozzo Senior was his Achilles heel. With that knowledge, before long, she'd have the ammunition she needed to lead Tony DiNozzo, Jr around by his nose ring at her command.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warning: same as Chapter One

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Nine, foot in mouth

Tony went in an hour early the next day and went down to lockup to see Senior. The man was sitting on a cot in the small cell dressed in his undershirt and pants. His remarkably pristine cream shirt and virgin wool jacket were neatly folded on the cot. A pair of jailhouse shirt and pants were discarded in the small trash can by the sink. There was a breakfast tray on Senior's lap with leftover scraps of a one-serving size cereal box and small carton of milk, banana peel and juice cup. Senior had a coffee cup to his lips when DiNozzo turned the corner and came up to his cell.

"What do you want? Unless it's to bring me my money, cash money, get the hell out of here." Senior snarled in his best ever morning greeting as he glanced briefly at Tony than looked away disdainfully and picked up a piece of buttered toast.

"The guard you attacked is not pressing for assault charges, so they were dropped. Drunk and disorderly are still on the books and attacking a Federal Officer just doesn't go away so you'll be prosecuted for that. The good news is that I'm sure you can make bail. They'll set the bail high, $150,000, probably, once I tell them you have over a million and a half in cash and are a flight risk."

"One hundred fifty thousand bail, a million and a half left, you bastard?! What happened to the rest of it?" Senior was breathing like an angry steam engine on its last leg uphill.

"You blew it, that's what happened to it. And now, there's the bail money and the fines. You can pick your revised cashier's check up along with your other junk when you're released I suspect late this afternoon."

Senior finally found the wherewithal to respond. "Didn't I make myself clear? What is wrong with you, boy?" He angrily thrust the tray on the bed but conveniently nowhere near his neatly placed articles of clothing and stood up.

" **I want cash!** Do you hear me? Damn check does me no good! Can you understand that, get it through your thick skull? Get me the cash, put it in a paper bag and you won't have to see me again.

Tony finally saw the light and he laughed bitterly. "You're running from whom this time? Who's trying to get their hands on your money, old man? Or should I say their money you cheated them out of; your bookie, partner, child support, scammed widow, identity theft? Let me tell **you** something. **I don't care!"** Tony leaned closer and placed his hands on the bars in a white knuckled grip.

"Screw you and your cash! Get your check and go and don't come back or believe me, you won't like the consequences if you continue to mess in my life! And I know people, remember Mario? I have the ways and the means. **Stay out of my life,** stay away from my co-workers, drop dead for all I care, this is your last warning!"

Senior wasn't drunk. The effects of the alcohol had long since worn off and so had the artificial courage it gave him along with the temper and violence. What character flaws remained were no better; deceitfulness, slyness, cunning, evasion and his second nature after that, malice.

Being put in your place and your life threatened should have alerted anyone with common sense to back off, take their money and run. Senior shivered as he watched his son retreat back the way he had come and thought momentarily of doing just that.

But once Tony was no longer in sight and not an immediate threat, Senior had a quick about face. He jumped from his cot belligerently, shaking the food tray so much it bounced onto the floor and the messy trash scattered in all directions.

Senior rushed to the prison bars and tried rattling them but they were firmly attached to their foundation and didn't budge. He picked up the fallen tin cup and the rhythm of the cup banging against the bars accompanied by the yelling, cursing gush of fury and vitriol had the guards reaching for a gag and straight jacket.

But Senior had lost all control, he had to assert his authority over Junior somehow so screaming obscenities to Tony's retreating back would have to do.

"You're nothing! A nothing and a nobody, just like your mother! An incompetent fool and sucker who thinks he can tell me what to do...!"

That's all Tony heard and needed to hear as the closing prison doors swoosh and clang cut off the sound of the man's strained, hated voice. Tony resolved; Senior was no longer his concern. Whatever he was up to after this and whatever perfidy he and Ziva David may have, probably, cooked up together was irrepressible as far as he was concerned and out of his hands.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Everyone was at their desk at 0900 hrs. If anyone noted Tony's heightened cheek color or pinched look, it wasn't mentioned.

"Fornell's late." Gibbs complained. "Get him up to speed when he shows up, DiNozzo."

They could set their watches by Gibbs' coffee break routine as he got up and left. As it was, Fornell arrived within five minutes of Gibbs' departure accompanied by his second, Ron Sack's looking spiffy in his regulated dark suit and tie but with the usual look of snooty disapproval on his mug. Another man, tall and somber followed behind Sacks carrying a brown folder.

"Agents DiNozzo, David, McGee." Fornell introduced, "You know Sacks. The other Agent is Senior FBI Agent John Nathan."

Fornell looked around noting Gibbs' absence with a frown before continuing without even bothering to ask where the jerker was. Trying to get his quota of a millionth cup of coffee before years end, thought the FBI agent spitefully. Fornell gave the NCIS agents present a sit-rep knowing very well that Gibbs would be filled-in by his posse when he returned.

"Agent Nathan was the lead investigator in the hit-and-run death of Agent Earl Holland. Agent Holland was Agent Jorge Carlson's best friend and partner and as you know, Carlson is working undercover in prison. Now what am I missing? What's this about a leak?"

Tony walked to the plasma and used the remote. "Jorge Carlson, your undercover agent, was engaged to Peggy Ringold. His mother is Yonta Carlson, the woman with the accent who made the call mistakenly to DiNozzo, Senior." Tony brought both women up on the screen.

"This man," And Tony grimaced in distaste as he pointed at the screen, "is Shane Ringold. He knows about Carlson's undercover work down to the last detail, probably even what cell he's in and everything about the bomb. He threatened Carlson's life and blackmailed Peggy into marrying him to save it."

"You've got a leak, Fornell." Said Gibbs' distinctive mocking voice from around the corner.

"So I gathered from the scant information you entrusted me with last night, Gibbs." Was Fornell's equally dry rejoinder.

Gibbs made his way to his desk and sat. "This is FBI's screw-up, Tobias, not NCIS'. You've got a leak. Thought you'd want to hear about that and your agent in trouble no matter what the time." Gibbs wasn't soft-soaping anything.

Sacks, of course, took offense first. "Now look here, Gibbs." But Fornell cut him off before he could get further.

"Ron, he's just baiting you. Don't fall for it," he warned the junior Agent.

"This isn't a joke, Fornell!" Said Sacks harshly, not willing to give up his belligerence.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Fornell raised his voice at Sacks and his unruly emotions but getting mad wasn't getting them anywhere. He took a deep breath to calm down before turning to address the rest of the group.

"We've got a leak!" Fornell admitted grimly. "That being the case, haste is of the utmost importance. Agent Nathan here will tell you what we've got on that hit-and run."

Agent Nathan stepped forward and pulled some papers from his folder. "This is the police report on the hit-and-run incident that caused Agent Earl Holland his life. Not too much reported, the police did a short but it appears adequate investigation into what appeared to be a routine traffic accident with no witnesses to prove otherwise."

"What do you mean routine traffic accident, I thought it was hit-and-run?" asked Ziva, with a frown.

"That's just it. His wife said Agent Holland went jogging early morning, still dark outside. He was run over by Joseph Shigera at a crosswalk. Shigera, however, claims one minute Holland wasn't there, the next, he was running over something in the road with his car. He swears he never struck the man, that the body was already on the ground and he ran over it. Shigera stayed and called the police. Cause of death was traumatic internal injuries consistent with being struck by a motor vehicle but time of death was off."

Agent Nathan paused in his narrative to sip at a bottled water. "I've gone over the evidence several times since being contacted by Agent Fornell. Agent Holland did expire from his injuries but hours before he was run over by Shigera's car. It was still hit-and-run and classified as vehicular manslaughter but now you're saying it was deliberate, a homicide, and I dug a little further."

Nathan pulled out the last piece of paper in his folder. "Holland's wife gave me a log book he kept at home. A couple of handwritten notations written two days before his death..." Nathan squinted at the yellow sheet before retrieving his glasses and putting them on. "The first notation says...'what's Georgie gotten into now?'"

Holland stopped reading to add, "Just so you know, most people at work called him Georgie. Okay, the next little bit is somewhat scribbled...'Margaret's here, upset, blackmail? Checking it out!'"

Nathan turned the page over. "This is the last entry, dated day before his death, 'holy shit! Get Georgie out! being followed? Spoke to Lead, asshole!'"

Nathan removed his glasses and looked at the others, "That's it, the next day he was dead."

"Who's the asshole he wrote about?" Asked DiNozzo.

"Yeah, that would be Lead Agent Harper, worthless; lazy **and** worthless. He said he spoke to Holland but it was a holiday weekend and nothing could be done, he'd look into it on Tuesday. And don't look at me like that, Gibbs. I'm sure NCIS isn't short on people willing to sit idly by rather than get off their butts and do some work!" Fornell defended his said guilty agency.

"Neither here nor there, Fornell. So Harper didn't follow up on Tuesday after Holland was found dead, I take it?" asked Gibbs.

"Right." Fornell didn't have it in him to further defend Harper.

"Holland knew his friend was undercover but not where or what it was about. He found out something, though, and got scared for him. Before he could tell the higher ups, he was silenced." Tony related the information they had thus far, almost thinking out loud.

"Who would he have gone to next, Fornell?"

"If he found out who Georgie's handler was, he would have gone to him." Said a previously silent Sacks.

"So? What happened?!" Gibbs was getting impatient with all this talk.

"We, as in myself, Sacks and Nathan, don't know who his handler is, we haven't been read in. I put a call in to the Director but that's it. Everyone else is suspect. We've got an appointment as soon as we leave here with what info we've got so far."

Fornell shook his head in disgust. "Anybody who claims they're from the FBI who's stupid enough to call over here trying to get information, stall him, trace the call, do whatever you can to nail the guy, then leave the SOB to me!" Stated Fornell with revenge in his voice for the traitor to his beloved FBI.

"Anything else?" questioned Fornell as he prepared to leave.

"We'll be following up on Mr Shannon Goldilocks." Said Tony, inadvertently using the nickname Ringold hated.

"Who? Who the he..." Started an irate Sacks.

"Never mind, Ron, he's joking. Gibbs? Alright to leave Agent Sacks here to liaison in this joint endeavor. You agree we've got to work fast on this?"

Gibbs raised eyebrow was telling but he kept his comment to himself. Leaving Ron Sacks here so he and DiNozzo could butt heads, not a good idea. And neither he nor McGee were enamored of the man either. But it was the FBI's show and when it came down to it, they were all professionals. He'd get back at Fornell at some future date, though, that was a guarantee.

"Sure, Fornell. Just find a seat, Sacks, and stay out of the way, we'll get along fine."

Sacks' stormy expression didn't lessen as Fornell and Agent Nathan left. Being treated like flotsam by Gibbs, he could put up with that, Gibbs treated his own people the same way. But that insufferable Tony DiNozzo. Words couldn't express the animosity he felt toward this bombastic, egotistical, braggart...

"Hey, Sacks, there's a desk behind Gibbs, grab a seat." Said the annoying voice of his nemesis. Sacks passed by DiNozzo's desk without a glance to set up at the desk he had indicated.

"You're welcome." Said Tony to Sacks' back and just barely avoided sticking out his tongue at the hostile Agent.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"I changed the name to Carson, Boss. George Carson and deleted any references to Jorge Carlson that I initiated. There's been no response to those inquiries by the way. I'm hoping, well guessing...I feel almost sure that no one was looking." Floundered McGee, finally turning away from his computer after a marathon clicking of keys.

"Almost sure, McGee?"

"Well, I can't be one hundred percent, Boss. But the FBI is going to know who is making inquiries on their red-flags, aren't they? They knew right away we were looking."

Everyone turned to look at Sacks. "Yeah, yeah we would know. If someone unauthorized is set to receive a red-flag on someone. It should be...hold on."

Sacks reached for his phone. They waited while he conversed with someone at the FBI. A few minutes later he had an answer. "The only red-flag inquiry regarding Carlson was from you guys, so whoever the leak is, he knows better than to try and access that information. We'd know who he was right away."

"Good call, McGee. But somebody over there is still leaking information so we don't let our guard down, no chatter. DiNozzo, what'd you find out about Ringold?"

"Not a whole lot to report, Boss. His family's back in the money after losing most of it in bad railroad stock. He's got a share of the family money and he's invested very lucratively in real estate. No history of any jail time, no record at all, not even a parking ticket. Clean as a whistle."

"Too clean." Gibbs remarked thoughtfully.

"Or too smart to be caught," agreed Tony.

Gibbs was agitated, his emotions just barely evident by his silent flinty stare at the orange wall. DiNozzo's troubled wrapping of a pencil in a rubber band numerous times showed his state of mind. Who knew what McGee was clicking on his keyboard and Ziva felt betrayed. She had quietly tried to contact her father, perhaps he knew something of this recent threat, but he had refused her call. Even the outsider, Sacks, was scribbling nonsense on his notepad. They were at a standstill, had nothing, were going nowhere, and were running out of time!

"We need a campfire," said DiNozzo with enthusiasm, jumping up and moving his chair to the middle of the bull pen.

"I'm going for coffee," said Gibbs as he got up and left but he didn't say either yea or nay so to Tony, that was a green light for go. Strangely enough, Ziva rose from her seat with alacrity and pushing her chair in front of her, placed it next to Tony's where she sat and crossed her legs.

Both McGee and Sacks showed their reluctance by the scowls on their faces. Tim unwillingly obliged the fool because Tony wouldn't stop pestering until he got his way. Sacks was not inclined to play so kept his head down and continued to amuse himself by playing Hangman on his paper tablet.

Ignoring him, Tony looked at the other two NCIS agents then down at his notes. "Okay, what **do** we know about Ringold?"

"That he has a clean record and therefore should not be involved with people who would know anything about what goes on behind the bars of a jail. Also, he is rich and there are no hidden large sums of money being deposited to any of his accounts," reported Ziva.

"There's no unusually large sums of money going out, either. He has not served in the military and is not politically inclined or partisan to any particular political party." McGee added, sounding somewhat perturbed at what he had just managed to enunciate.

"Wow! That's a lot of peas, McNutbutter," joked Tony. "I like mine with chunks."

Ziva groused, "Really, Tony? Are you going to contribute or just fool around? If that is the case, I will..."

"No, really, Ziva. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounds good for a snack right now. Campfire over!" Tony pushed his chair back to his desk in a hurry and settled to typing at his computer.

The junior agents stared at each momentarily dumbfounded by Tony's sudden departure back to his computer after only three minutes of his infamous campfire time. Tim's irreverent thoughts were that one, Tony had had a lightbulb moment, or two, his attention deficit hyperactive disorder had just kicked in and he needed a pill, or three, he had really just run off to get some food. Or all of the above.

Sacks looked down his nose at all of them.

McGee stood up and shoved his chair back to his desk. "Tony, what the heck are you doing?" he groused. Tim had been frustrated already with his lack of progress in finding any clue to aid their case. Now, he was equally affronted that Tony had interrupted his as yet futile computer effort and had made them endure his crappy campfire and the only thing that had come out of it was peanut butter?

Ziva went back to her desk without saying a word.

"Well, what'd you find?" Gibbs was back and wanted some answers.

"Nothing, Agent Gibbs. Absolutely nothing." Sacks had lost his bored look to point out their failings.

"We sat around in a circle and played musical chairs and Tony was the umpire." Ziva tried being diplomatic but her mocking tone dispelled that notion.

McGee wisely kept his mouth shut as he tried to figure out what clue they had missed and Tony had not.

More than irritated, Gibbs ignored them and directed his attention to Tony. "DiNozzo?"

"One minute, Boss." Tony worked hurriedly but not feverishly, oozing confidence in what he was doing and the results he would get.

"I think Tim here has solved our problem. Just let me pull it up."

 _I have?_ mouthed McGee to Ziva, who just shrugged and pretended not to be confused also.

 _Bloated grandstander,_ thought Sacks, growing more impatient by the minute. DiNozzo was a bumbling fool. "If you ask me, I think you should turn what info you have over to the FBI, Gibbs. It's obvious you're getting nowhere with this."

"No one asked." Said Gibbs over his shoulder as he continued to wait for Tony's information.

"Here it is, look at this." Tony jumped up from his desk and hurried to the plasma screen.

"Ringold's family found oil on their land and now the older brothers run the oil business as did their father before them. Shane branched off and started to grow, you're never going to guess." Tony eagerly looked at their mirthless faces and realized they weren't going to guess, much less even going to try to guess, and he'd probably get overly ripened red tomatoes thrown in his face if they had any. _Party pooper spoilsports,_ hethought.

"DiNozzo, move on!"

"Moving on, Boss. Anyway, it's peanuts. He grows peanuts. That's significant because, I remembered at the time I thought it was a pretty lucrative way to earn money without working too hard, more like a hobby."

He looked at his teammates blank faces and realized they hadn't picked up on anything...sometimes he wondered about them. Before Gibbs tried to clobber him, Tony moved the clicker and another man's face came up.

"This is Madison, remember him? Kyle Madison? The reason Agent Carlson is playing a mole in prison in the first place? 'Kyle Madison', murderer, arms and drug dealer, and more recently, plutonium acquisition, and...peanut farmer. The family has land in the middle of nowhere boondocks of South Carolina where they grow their peanuts that they sell on the market. However, in between their peanut crop they grow marijuana and ATF busted one of the brothers for that. He escaped from custody and no one's seen him since. The other brother and sister, and other relatives and inbreds are still on the farm. They're hostile isolationists and hate any authority, and just about everyone else."

Tony waited for someone else to pick up the point and wasn't disappointed.

"So that's how they know each other," continued McGee. "Ringold and the guy in jail, Madison, were in the same business and probably had limited dealings with each other."

"So we've got Ringold and Madison knowing each other casually but that doesn't get us to how Ringold knows about FBI Jorge Carlson." Sacks spoke reluctantly, knowing where this was headed.

"Someone in the FBI is a traitor and was bought by Ringold." Gibbs flatly stated.

They all looked at Sacks. "Sure, if enough money passed hands and a person was desperate, well...it could happen in any Agency." Sacks admitted it, no one was perfect. He finally came down off his high horse's feet of clay and admitted, if just to himself, that someone in the FBI would betray his beloved organization that way.

"Yeah, tell us about it." McGee was thinking about the tragedy of Lee and Shepard and the other moles and traitors that had recently been ferreted out of NCIS.

"So Ringold goes after his rival Carlson by threatening his life in prison to make Peggy Stratum his slave, oh excuse me, his wife in marriage. He finds a traitor in the FBI to bribe and..." began Tony.

"...and this traitor reported Carlson's undercover assignment to him and that's how Ringold could blackmail Peggy into marrying him." Sacks concluded, short and succinct.

"What a pig!" snarled Ziva.

"It has to be someone with high enough clearance to find out where Carlson's undercover assignment was," stated Sacks.

Gibbs' phone rang and a brief conversation ensued then he hung up abruptly. "Fornell's on his way. He has some news."

Gibbs looked around the room at his team and Sacks. What an extraordinary job they had done; sneered and jeered at campfire notwithstanding. They had found the missing link that had tied it all together and there was a light at the end of the tunnel now. In one of his very rarest of giving moments Gibbs spoke briefly from his heart, "Good work."

He than broke the awkward intensity of that moment by getting up and headed up the stairs. "I'll brief Vance."

The sudden quiet was broken by McGee. "Did he just compliment us?"

"I do not quite know, I think he did, yes, that must be what it was." Said a wondering Ziva.

Tony just turned back to his computer with a shrug. "Who knows? Now, who's turn to go for a coffee run?"

"Like you don't know it's your turn, Tony! But I take the hint. I'll go since you found that clue. Why'd you say I found it, anyway? I'll tell Gibbs once he comes back that..."

"We're a team, Tim, no need. And bring me back a jelly donut, I'll imagine there's peanut butter on it."

Tim just shook his head and took off with the coffee order, and Ziva decided to trail along with him.

Tony had forgotten about Sacks who came up behind him. "You're something else, DiNozzo. How come you act stupid but in real life you're far from it?" Sacks had finally figured it out; why Gibbs put up with him and Fornell coveted him as an FBI agent. Sacks still couldn't stand the guy but at least he had some redeeming qualities.

"I could ask you the same thing, Sacks." And there was no sign of the mockery and tomfoolery that Sacks was usually exposed to whenever he encountered the Senior Field Agent.

"You act all aggressive, which just makes you look pretty stupid. Are you stupid, Sacks, because you _are_ stupid or because people put down their guard when they think you're stupider than they are? I know which one I am, which one are you?"

Sacks didn't have time to answer when the elevator doors opened and Fornell stepped out.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

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	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Ten, The ayes have it

Previously on NCIS

'Fornell's on his way. He has some news.'

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Ziva and Tim trailed back into the bull pen behind Fornell, not having gotten far for the food collection, and coffee all but forgotten.

"We're in touch with his handler. According to him Carlson got out a message that he needed a little more time, two more days at the most. Something is going down and it's vital he stay there. Forget a mall bombing or planes crashing into buildings, do the words, 'hyper velocity rod bundles', 'space drones', 'THOR,' mean anything to you?"

McGee blanched, "That's just rumor and speculation."

"Rod bundles, as in Area 51 enemy firepower from outer space?" DiNozzo tried to quip but it fell flat.

"Mossad is convinced that the technology is available." Sacks looked appalled at the Israeli woman's announcement.

"No way!" he exclaimed.

"Well, it seems we've all heard the rumor. What of it?" Questioned Vance who had come down the stairs with Gibbs.

"Some low-life prison inmate scum has the power to threaten the world with it." Said Tim, his voice and words conveyed his profound disgust that good didn't always win versus Evil.

Gibbs observation was less naive, "Dirty SOB!"

"Yeah. Anyway, he's in jail but he's got powerful friends. Worse, an ongoing rumor that the FBI takes seriously, is that a jail break is expected and that he's only still there because he wants to be there." Fornell replied.

It was quiet until Tony said, "So what now?"

"Now?" Fornell snorted. "Now, we've got warrants for everybody. We're picking everyone up including Shane and Peggy Ringold, Yonta Carlson, Tom, Dick and Harry and don't forget Elvis." Fornell replied sarcastically.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Surveillance showed that Ringold was still at his office at 2000 hours. Gibbs, Ziva and McGee would drive ahead in the company car while Tony went to get an unmarked van. The plan was to get Ringold, with the least amount of fuss as possible, into the van and whisked away. Whatever they did, it was vital he was not allowed to make any phone calls, timing was everything. Everyone understood this and agreed.

"Shall I partner with Tony, Gibbs? Ziva had asked as she watched the other agent head for the parked vans.

"I think he can manage, Ziva. Let's go," ordered Gibbs.

Keeping the agency car in sight, Tony drove a few blocks thinking of the ops ahead. He was getting ready to turn right on a mostly deserted street when he was suddenly cut off by an SUV that seemed to come out of nowhere. He honked his horn to get them moving out of his way, he didn't have time for any further confrontation or he'd arrest the bozo. Instead of moving out of the way, two men in dark suits climbed out of the stopped vehicle and right away Tony knew this was a no-brainer, trouble. Feds or hoods? Hard to tell as they all wore suits but Tony wasn't waiting around to find out.

He gunned his motor causing the van to jerk and roll straight ahead, and the Suit in front of him barely jumped out of the way. The vehicle smashed into the side of the SUV causing it to sideways skid and crumple of the side doors. Tony immediately backed up, turned left and gunned the motor again. He pressed his foot on the gas pedal and sped away or at least he tried to.

The second vehicle slammed into his, clipping the rear bumper and, of course, thought Tony as he bumped his head on the roof, causing the Van to roll once before coming to a stop against the cliched fire hydrate. But it didn't matter, everything went black for Tony after that.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Gibbs, McGee and David waited exactly five minutes for DiNozzo but he was a no-show. With thinned lips, Gibbs announced tersely, "Let's go!"

The elevator to the fifth floor executive suite was ridden in silence. They burst through Ringold's outer office door, the team and FBI agents alike. Ziva distracted Ringold's secretary while McGee found the button hidden under her desktop and everyone got in position before he pushed the button to unlock the door. The group rushed in to the inner sanctum, which had the shades drawn and the lights out.

"FBI, NCIS, REMAIN IN YOUR SEATS!" Was yelled to a roomful of executive types who were apparently having a meeting. Ringold stood at the head of the large conference table with a long pointer in his hand and a screen as his backdrop. The other chairs around the table were occupied by mostly men and some women and there were carafes of water scattered at regular intervals on the table and each person had a filled water goblet with ice and a sliced lemon in front of them. Coffee and cups, sugar and cream containers along with two boxes of pastries were on a sideboard. It appeared the meeting had just started.

Ziva was the second one in the room behind Gibbs and even in the darkened room, they both saw Ringold moving to reach inside his jacket pocket. Taking no chances that he was going for his phone, Ziva made a running leap onto the tabletop and used the momentum to slide halfway down the table. The crystal glasses, water, ice and lemon in her direct path were the only casualties as she dived for her target. She smacked into Ringold and they both fell to the floor.

When the lights were turned up, the room was how you would expect a room to look as men and women panicked at the violent intrusion of combat dressed people into their midst. Staring at modern day assault weapons pointed in their faces didn't help, either.

But shortly, the chaotic screaming and uncontrollable fear was quickly subdued when the poor folk saw the familiar FBI jackets and less recognized NCIS logos and realized the intruders were the good guys and not some fanatical terrorists looking for hostages. Ziva had Ringold on his stomach, arm twisted behind his back in spite of his complaints and a cell phone held up in her other hand.

"Good work," said Gibbs as he took the phone and handed her his handcuffs.

The rest of the people in the room had found their voices, loud and clear, angry and ugly, even though the Government agents had lowered their weapons and stood by harmlessly at parade rest. Such profanity from the rich and World Changers was surprisingly not shocking as they voiced their outrage at the uncouthly interruption of their meeting. They failed to remember that a few minutes ago, they would have welcomed these men to fight and maybe even give up their lives for them if there had been a terrorists attack.

The team had Ringold, that's all they wanted and he had not been able to call anyone thanks to Ziva's quick actions. They stepped out of the room with their prisoner in tow and left the disruption behind for the FBI to clean up. A quick call to Fornell confirmed that his teams had picked up their quarries also and that no messages appeared to have gotten to the prison. Their mole was safe.

"And tell DiNozzo to get his ass over here or he's about to have it fired for disobeying orders!" Gibbs warned Fornell.

"DiNozzo? What're you talking about, he's not here. I thought he was going with your group. What, Jethro, can't keep track of your agents?" But his voice didn't sound amused.

Gibbs' abrupt answer filled Fornell with increased unease. "He never showed up here, Tobias."

"I'll meet you back at NCIS," Fornell promised and he hung up first for a change.

"Where's Tony?" McGee wanted to know as he came up to Gibbs with the secretary in tow. He had held onto her and made sure she had no access to a phone while the takedown was taking place.

While the FBI escorted Ringold to one of their vehicles in a change of plan since Tony hadn't shown up with their van, Gibbs was on the phone dialing Tony's number, again. No answer.

"Don't know, McGee." Gibbs pointed to the secretary. "Get her in a separate FBI vehicle from Ringold's than meet me at the car." Tim looked worriedly back at Gibbs as he hurried away with the crying woman.

"Ziva, get Abby on the phone. Have her track DiNozzo's cell and the van's GPS."

"On it, Gibbs!" Ziva said as she raced behind him to the car.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony DiNozzo tried shaking the grimy guy off his leg while he held firmly onto another around the waist and lifted him off his feet. Where was his partner when he needed him? The third perp, the ringleader, tried scrabbling away on all fours after being kicked in the stomach by one of Tony's thrashing feet, and was making good headway towards the dropped gun lying on the pavement. Tony managed to free his leg from Grimy who lost his balance and went down to the ground in a patch of dirt while the one he had around the waist, head butted him and Tony saw stars. He kicked him in his sensitive body part that really must have hurt because the guy went to his knees.

Tony was putting up a struggle but now all his energy was depleted and he was losing this battle. He knew it, they knew it. He was bruised and beaten and had been left by his team to deal on his own. Just then, the ringleader, who had been racing for the pistol had reached his goal and as he turned to face Tony, Tony lunged at him with the last of his waning adrenaline strength and reached for the Ringleader's arm just as the pistol came around and smacked him in the face. Gravel embedded into his cheek as he went down to the paved driveway of wherever he was but he was down, not out.

Tony noted whoever these men were they were either amateurs or were really, really trying hard not to seriously hurt him as he had been able to punch and kick without impunity avoiding getting himself a concussion or worse. But it seemed that thought came too soon. Somebody had run out of patience.

"Okay, enough of this! The boss said not too much rough stuff until he gets here but this guy is asking for it," said the guy in charge of the level of rough stuff and suddenly the game got a lot rougher. Tony bent over double after being belted in the stomach more than once while his arms were held on both sides. They kept hold of his arms and dragged him inside the predictably dark grimy deserted warehouse where he was dumped unceremoniously on the dirty floor. But not for long as his wrists were tied together non too gently behind his back with rope and he wondered why they hadn't done it before.

Tony had time to ponder who the hell these guys were and what did they want as he was lifted onto a straight back chair and tied to it. But he knew, he just knew this had to be part of his father's predictable and uncomplicated lifestyle modus operandi, piss-off his latest con. Like white fish following killer sharks, his father was the scum of the pond trying to creep his way in with the big boys to siphon off of them ectoparasites and leftovers but never finding that underwater pot of golden crustacean for himself.

So he wasn't surprised in the least when he heard the next voice, smooth and insincere as he walked into the room.

"I'll get right to the point, Junior. I owe some business associates who feel it necessary to use, shall we say, cave-man like techniques to get what they want, and also basically to make a point that..."

"Okay," Tony interrupted, the one word a passionless monotone, as though proven right again and resigned to his fate.

Senior, dressed impeccably in an obviously new, expensive suit had entered last and stepped around one of the men so Tony didn't know if he had just come in or had been there all along to witness his beating. Irrelevantly, Tony knew the suit was new as there were no shiny wear of fabric on the lapels or knees. His dress shoes sparkled from a high shine, and even Senior's newly capped teeth shone in the dim light. Yep, the guy had shopped till he'd run out of money, probably for the best stuff his recently acquired millions could buy. Probably had been gourmet eating too at the best restaurants and bunking up in a thousand dollar a day hotel room.

If Senior had paid any part of what he owed to his 'business associates' instead of hoarding what he had left, Tony would be with his team now doing what he did best and loved rather than hogtied like a rodeoed steer wrestled to the ground.

"Okay?" Senior's shocked face and reply were real for a change. He was truly surprised at Junior's quick acquiescence. Tony showed no emotion at all and it unsettled Senior when Junior stopped living down to his expectations.

"Yeah, you want money, right?" Tony said through a throbbing lip and bitten tongue.

"That's right," said the voice of another man who had just entered. Tony, always fashion conscious, took in the decent grey suit on the portly man and figured this was the head honcho, who probably waited in the car while his muscle took care of subduing the poor slobs he wanted tamed or who got in his way.

"My friend Anthony here says you stole his money and that's why he can't pay us back. We just want what's coming to us."

Why is it that Capone wannabes never showed an ounce of originality or even a spark of daring anticipation in their life of crime? Tony laughed internally. He felt like he was in a comedy of errors or a Three Stooges slapstick. They wanted what was coming to them? Really? Would they find it funny if he answered in the same vein? Yet, if they were stupid enough to put credence in what Senior said in spite of his already scamming them once, then they wouldn't see the humor and they'd deserve the jail time that was coming to them and that he would gladly see to, yeah, locking them up and throwing away the key would be what was coming to them once he figured on a way to get out of here.

"Something funny, Junior?" The short, fat man in the grey seersucker, who had grey eyes to match and a brownish toupee, had noticed the smirk and Tony wiped it off his face. Getting smacked around was getting old.

"Nope, I'm not laughing that you're being played for suckers by Senior here. It's just the banks are closed and believe me, in spite of what he might say, I don't have any money trees or large green bills in a satchel hidden under my mattress. You're going to have to wait until the banks open if you want cash. Then again, would you accept a personal check or money order from Seven Eleven?" Tony asked with a thoughtful frown.

Thwack! Grey suit got his hands dirty and smacked Tony so hard the chair fell over backwards and with him tied to it, Tony went over with it and his head and back were getting too used to the abuse as he hardly felt a thing though he saw intermittent stars interspersed with black spots twirling around, and birds were chirping.

"Now, this is what's going to happen," said grey suit, and grey leather shoes came into Tony's vision as he lay sorta supine on the floor.

"You'll stay here tonight. Tomorrow we'll visit a bank owned by, let's just say, people who have the same interests as me. You'll sign over the money, we'll get our cash, and no one needs to get hurt. That is, hurt anymore than they already are," and he chuckled at his own good humor.

At his signal, grey suit's henchmen lifted Tony's chair placing it back on its four legs. Grey suit patted Tony's face in camaraderie. "Be a good boy and you'll live a long and healthy life," and he turned casually to Senior his new best friend. "Come, Anthony, it's way past dinner time." Grey suit turned and walked away with Senior willingly following behind without a backward glance. Tony considered himself a dead man. He tested his bonds and while his thoughts weren't admitting to defeat yet, they were starting to slink that way.

I'm a dead man. I knew that when Grey suit walked away, and after he gets his money tomorrow, there's no reason for him to keep me around. The SOB never tried to hide his face from me or keep his identity secret and my 'father' as my only living relative won't report me missing. Yep, I'm a dead man. My lifeless body is gonna be dumped somewhere in an indiscriminate, unremarkable, makeshift grave. NCIS... Gibbs' team, will probably look, but not for long or maybe Fornell will try...

Oh, hell! Tony scoffed at himself for wasting time maudlin away in self pity. He looked around his prison after the boss and Senior left. Two of his guards were sitting in a small office and he could see through the glass windows surrounding the room that they were enjoying their dinner spread out on a decrepit old desk while sitting in rickety wooden chairs and there was a filthy mattress on a cot that even the roaches and rats had abandoned.

The office, the whole place was reminiscent of one of those centuries-old factories where the curator or bookkeeper worked with his documents or books and a quill pen in poor light so Tony knew he was in an older building in an even older part of town.

He guessed food wasn't on the menu for him and they hadn't even given him a bathroom break, which was a great reason for not leaving him any water. He was out in the open in a cavern of a room on his own and exposed so he couldn't do too much wiggling but even though the ropes binding him were securely tied, when Grey suit had smacked him to the floor, he'd managed to loosen one hand slightly; so that's what he had and that's what he'd work on, getting that one hand free.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"We found the van, Boss, and Tony's phone is at the same location. That's good, right?" McGee related, the optimism heard in his voice that Tony would be found, maybe hurt, but alive was obvious.

"Let's go!" Gibbs was less sanguine hoping they wouldn't find his senior field agent's dead body in the back of said van.

Ziva David hustled along with her team to the elevator and down to their vehicle. Still on a high from her save of the situation at Ringold's corporation, she refused to let DiNozzo's childish Scheherazades; no not a Sultan's wife, shenanigans, yes childish shenanigans, ruin her moment of glory and as they raced to the scene of the abandoned van Ziva stayed close to Gibbs as a second in command should.

The Van had suffered obvious damage and Tony's cell phone was found on the passenger seat but thankfully there was no blood, but no signs of DiNozzo, either.

"Find something!" Gibbs ordered to his beleaguered team as they scattered away focused and determined to do just that.

"There's damage in the front passenger door along with transfer of paint, Gibbs. Looks like the car that struck the van was a dark blue and there's plastic imbedded in the grooves and on the ground as well as glass probably from a broken headlight." McGee placed the evidence in plastic bags as he described what he had found.

"I have taken pictures of the skid marks and tire marks, which might indicate the type of vehicle that was used. I have contacted the towing company to transport the vehicle to the navy yard. Perhaps Abby can find out more." Ziva stood next to Gibbs to give her report and in case he needed more from her.

Gibbs, who had just returned from interviewing the few witnesses who basically witnessed nothing, looked around impatiently; no information on the make of the car or cars involved, no license plate number not even the color of the vehicles, nothing.

"What about cameras, McGee?"

"Nothing, Boss. They picked the perfect spot to do this, a blind spot, the nearest traffic cameras are two blocks east and west and none of the retail businesses here are equipped with outside surveillance cameras.

They waited for the tow truck and then left the sight back to the navy yard with nothing. 'We got nothin'!' Tony would have said. They had nothing.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Back at the navy yard after giving an anxious Abby their evidence, the remaining team sat at their desks. Gibbs was on the phone getting the lowdown on their recent sting from Fornell. Those who were in lockup and denied lawyers or a phone call due to the patriot act were vocal and demanding and not admitting to anything especially since the evidence against them had not been forthcoming. But they couldn't keep them confined forever, charge them with something or let them go, that was the law.

Fornell understood Gibbs' team was distracted. Was DiNozzo kidnapped because of their ongoing investigation or was it something else? Speed was of the essence. By now Ringold's friends and associates knew he had been taken away in chains and were any of them ready to betray their man in jail or their Country?

Just in case, their man Jorge Carlson had been placed in solitary confinement for fighting. If they couldn't get satisfactory answers from Ringold, Carlson would not be sent back to the prison population and the mission, as far as his part was concerned, would be over.

Fornell got off the phone with Gibbs and sat back in his chair. Gibbs had been his usual stoic but underneath the obvious lack of feeling, he could sense the real worry for his missing agent. Fornell was worried, too.

"Fornell!" Sacks rushed into his office urgently. "We've got something on DiNozzo, possibly who took him and why."

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

A/N: To Guest Fred - Very discerning, try this next one.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Eleven, About face (A Dinner Mystery)

Previously on NCIS

"Fornell!" Sacks rushed into his office urgently. "We've got something on DiNozzo, possibly who took him and why!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony sat the night in the same hard chair waiting for his guards and the boss man to return; getting out of his bindings was not happening but he kept trying. The good thing was Tony had been allowed to use the one-toilet dingy men's room once during the night. Even though the bathroom was nothing to brag about as the toilet hardly flushed, it beat peeing in his pants. And, as it was, one of the guards stayed in the room with him while he took care of business.

He was desperate for some liquid but not enough to drink the toilet water. His next best option, he looked at it with extreme distaste, but approached it anyway as the only water source. Tony gulped several handfuls of tepid tap water coming from the trickle released by the grungy spout of the grimy sink he considered his best new friend and thanked it for the water that tasted like nirvana. Too quickly, his goon guard for the morning urged him out and back to his own personal chair.

The bad thing, the rope he had been working on loosening from around his hands had been discovered so when they tied him up again it was brutally tight and confining. He still hadn't come up with a plan to escape and he didn't know how the crime boss expected to pull this off. Hold his father as hostage? Laughable. Threaten innocents if he didn't cooperate? More than likely to work.

By his reckoning it was around seven o'clock when there was activity in the warehouse and everyone woke up. Tony got up on stiffened legs once he was let loose of his bonds though they left his hands tied in front. He was marched to the bathroom again, given a cheap unused razor, new toothbrush, comb and a clean shirt and told to wash up while the thugs stood nearby. Tony looked at his bruised face in the cracked mirror but was more horrified at the item of clothing they had given him. Anyone who saw him and knew him would realize that he was acting under great duress by having to don the look of, the feel, and the quality of the cheap blue shirt they expected him to wear.

A breakfast burrito and cup of Gibbs-preferred black coffee later and the big boss arrived. As predicted, he threatened innocents at the bank if Tony didn't follow the script exactly; withdraw 1.5 million dollars, which is what Senior owed him, plus interest, leave the bank, get in the cab that will be waiting for him and his part would be over, he would be let go and his father's debt would be paid.

"You're going to let me go, just like that?" Tony sneered contemptuously.

"Of course. No one has been hurt. Yet!"

The confident man grinned and Tony noted the scar in the double chin of the well-dressed man in the dark blue suit and silk tie this morning. The kingpin gestured towards the front door to the car waiting outside but had his men blindfold Tony before they left the semi-lit warehouse. Didn't matter, Tony had enough clues that he was confident he could find the building again.

"This is just a business deal between two long-time friends, your father and I, that is. You follow the plan and it's all over in twenty minutes tops."

"And if I don't hand over anything to you?" Tony knew but just wanted it confirmed.

The hoodlum laughed dryly, he held all the cards. "Come on, Tony. May I call you that?" But he went on without waiting for an answer. "Don't pretend stupidity, now we've been getting along so well."

Tony recalled the subject of stupidity being spoken to him not too long ago by a wide-eyed, knowing Sacks. He wondered if Sacks was even aware that he was missing and whether he gave a hoot. Not that it mattered.

Boss Hoodlum was still talking. "This time of morning, lots of people cashing paychecks, mothers coming in with babies. I won't be there but I will have an airtight alibi. Now, if you don't come up with the money, well, I know for a fact that that particular bank will be robbed before noon today by several desperadoes who have no respect for human life and I can guarantee you that people will be hurt by flying bullets. Oh, and in case that's not motivation enough, I understand there are three little boys you're fond of, tragic how accidents happen to toddlers just learning to walk, drownings, falling out of windows, and their mothers can't..."

Tony's blood ran cold. He lunged at the voice coming from the SOB sitting across from him but didn't get far when the two muscled bookends sitting either side of him grabbed him firmly by the elbows and held him back.

"If you touch those kids..." Tony threatened, still struggling fruitlessly.

"What? What're you gonna do about it, Junior?" Tony could vision the stout man's florid face as he mockingly laughed at Tony's empty words and impotency.

"I know you'll do the right thing, your father says you're sappy with a do-gooder mentality. And you, Junior, won't be able to live with the fact that you'll be at fault as some little girl bleeds out on the bank floor."

As far as story line and movie plot were concerned, this was so ridiculous that it just might work, thought Tony bitterly. His father knew how to use his vulnerabilities against him. Whether the bank would be robbed or it was a well-played bluff, Tony didn't know and couldn't take the chance. Whether his father's partner in crime let him go after he gave in to his demands, again, unknown, but he'd be dammed if he'd take the chance with other peoples lives.

So he sat back pretending defeat in the comfortable luxury car seat and waited. He wondered where Senior was in all this mess but didn't ask. So typical, cause mayhem and mischief then stand back and watch as his greed caused many to lose their life savings, their pensions, their homes and businesses. Only this time, it wasn't material things that were at high stakes but people's lives that would be lost. His father had a lot to answer for and he, Tony, would be the one to make sure his punishment fit the crime, once and for all.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

An hour later, the limo pulled to the curb and parked and even in the confines of the well-insulated car, Tony could still hear the people noise from the busy street. Tony's hands were untied and the blindfold removed and he was handed a new leather briefcase.

"Take a walk," said his jailer. "You'll know where you are once you get out. Just walk a couple of blocks east to the bank and no need to repeat myself, you know what to do. Save some lives today, Tony."

Suddenly the man lost his jovial good humor. He reached over and wrapped his two hands around Tony's vulnerable neck and his thumbs pressed against his jugular while Tony was restrained by his guards. He tightened his hold as Tony labored to breathe and got in his face.

"Do as you're told and no one will get hurt!" And for the first time, Tony heard the menace in the voice of this very dangerous man.

"There'll be some of my men trailing you. Don't bother looking for them, you won't know them. Try anything, and others will get hurt." And he shook Tony by the neck like a hated mongrel dog before letting him go. Left to breathe again, Tony inhaled pretty much the car's quota of spare air and when he finally stopped gasping, he and the briefcase were unceremoniously booted out of the car and left standing there as the car sped away and people walked around him busy in their oblivious obliviousness at his plight.

He started walking. The coffee shop begged for his presence as the heady beans called his name but he kept walking pass the early morning crowd with crullers sitting outside on dewy wet chairs.

"Gimme a dollar, Mister," said a bedraggled, grey headed old man with days-old beard, eyeing him speculatively while digging in a garbage can as he passed by, but his shoes were too new.

Tony knew where he was and his destination was four more blocks ahead. By the time he got there it would be nine o'clock or close enough. He waited for the light then crossed his first intersection at a leisurely pace but still, he was bumped into from behind by a bald-headed biker type in a black leather jacket hurrying to get across the street before the light turned red again. Imagine that, someone actually wanted to obey the law. The guy didn't stop long enough to offer an excuse-me please for being a rude lout but Tony didn't mind as he pick-pocketed the guy's gun from his back pocket and hurriedly thrust it into his own belt hidden under his jacket.

The hotdog cart was out kind of early this morning but meat and bread were meat and bread to be eaten anytime of the day or night. A sale sign said one dog for a dollar fifty, two for three dollars and Tony thought, what a genius idea, wow, what a bargain.

His breakfast burrito was still a clumped mess in the pit of his stomach though so he wasn't even tempted. He could even hear McHaughty Disdain in his mind's ear berating the food choices as he walked by the vender, a tall, slender guy wearing an apron who had a look of distaste on his face that only Tony could see as he bent over the cart's vat of boiling wieners.

The African-American man dressed in a guard's uniform glared at him as he stepped through the bank doors, and Tony thought, geez, what was this guy's beef? He hadn't even caused a problem yet.

"I need to make a large withdrawal, is Mr Kravitch in today?"

"Yes. Have a seat at his desk, Sir, second one to your right. He'll be right with you," said the sulky guard as he tried not to squirm in his ill-fitting jacket.

Tony sat in the seat facing the door at Kravitch's desk and placed the empty briefcase on the floor by his chair. He watched people coming and going, mothers for sure but not too many children, actually, no children at all. Surprisingly, Kravitch, the senior executive came from the break room with two cups of hot coffee.

"I saw you come in, Mr DiNozzo, you look like you could use this. Now, what can I do for you this morning?" Kravitch asked, as he handed him the cup. Kravitch studiously tried to avoid looking at Tony's bruised mouth and diplomatic enough not to mention it out loud but Tony knew he had to be biting his tongue.

"I fell into a door," said Tony flippantly and then almost didn't avoid grimacing in pain as he took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and his cut lip complained.

"Sorry to hear that," said Kravitch solicitously and waited, and Tony got the impression the man just wanted him to state his business and go.

"Okay, well, I need to withdraw one and a half million dollars. In big bills, please."

Kravitch didn't blink an eye at the request. He was in the banking business where people removed large sums of money more frequently than one would expect; a horse with a winning streak, a grand tip on the Stock Market or just gambling the weekend away in Vegas, money came, money went. Kravitch still felt obligated to put up a token protest anyway even though he knew people with money begat money but not without taking risks or most times great loss.

"That's an awful lot of money to be walking around with, Mr DiNozzo, are you sure you..."

"Positive," said Tony cutting him off. "I've got it covered." And the saucy grin was there for any observing strangers.

"Just load it up in this briefcase, large bills on top, smaller ones on the bottom, break it up, make it more interesting."

Kravitch looked at Tony strangely but shrugged at the man's unusual instructions. Who cared? Wouldn't be his or the banks loss if this customer walked out of the bank with his briefcase full of money for anyone to see and got robbed for his stupidity.

"Very well. Give me a few minutes to get the money from the vault and in the meantime please sign these withdrawal forms."

Kravitch made a call to his Assistant to meet him at the vault than absconded with the papers Tony had signed only to return a short time later.

"Money's ready, Mr DiNozzo. Please follow me to the teller where we can count it out."

Tony thought irrelevantly about the fast money counters this bank must have to count out more than a million dollars in less than five minutes but he let the thought go and obligingly picked up his briefcase and followed the man to the bank teller who was going to assist him.

He stood in front of the teller's window and watched as stacks of bills were laid out on the counter next to her computer and when she was done she turned to him almost impatiently to start counting.

"I will start with the large denominations first. Please read and then initial each line on this sheet after I have counted the money out and noted their serial numbers."

The irritated teller instructed Tony in a no-nonsense tone of bossy voice and Tony raised his eyebrows at the woman grumping at him. He thought, how ironic getting stuck with a teller who didn't use contractions, was aggressive, domineering, and was eyeing him with contempt, as though it was a downright criminal shame that he wanted to take his own money out of the bank. In spite of that, the transaction went smoothly, the money was transferred from the counter into his briefcase, the papers were signed, countersigned, and he was ready to leave the bank.

"Nice doing business with you, Mr Kravitch, Ms Liza," he noted on the teller's nametag, and left.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The yellow cab that pulled up outside was meant for him he assumed because he jumped into it without asking any questions. The cab driver started driving without any instructions from him and they drove around aimlessly for a while, presumably to drop a tail if there was one. Tony tried the doors, locked of course, and the partition separating him from his chauffeur was solidly locked in place.

"Hey, it's been way too long riding around in this dumpy, smelly cab. I got the money for your boss, you let me go, nobody gets hurt, that was the deal. What's changed?"

The driver pulled up behind a bakery truck ahead without answering him and three men got out of the back and headed for the cab. As they got close, the driver unlocked the back doors and two of the men climbed in. One man had a gun cocked and pointed at Tony's heart. The third guy reached in and snagged the briefcase and headed back to the bakery truck.

"You're kidding, right? Really?" Said Tony as he was shoved over to the middle.

"Don't I get a receipt for that money, or at least half a dozen Yumtum cupcakes?" He hollered to the disappearing man with fortune.

Ignoring him some more, deaf and dumb sitting in the back with him let the gun do their talking while the cab driver spoke quietly into his cell phone.

"Hey, you up front! Is that your real name on the ID card on the dashboard, 'cause with that red hair peeking out from under your cap and those blue eyes, you look more like Horatio Caine than 'Rajiv Mahatma'".

"Your choice," the driver said looking in the rearview mirror with a sneer, phone still at his ear.

"Dead or alive, that money belongs to the boss so shut up or we'll shut you up!"

"No, I'm just saying..." That's all Tony got out before he was punched in the stomach with what felt like brass knuckles but could have been the butt of a gun. He couldn't help the grunt that escaped his lips as he sagged into himself to ride out the pain. The bloke on his right took advantage of the quiet and stuffed a dirty cloth Tony hoped wasn't a sock in his mouth and pulled a bag over his head while Nasty on his left tied his wrists together with rough rope. Trussed up again, all he could do was to bide his time and wait for his chance to make a move. And where was his team?

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The man's voice Tony recognized as the cab driver's suddenly spoke up.

"Your father's disappeared. The boss doesn't like that. Where is he?"

Tony grunted something unintelligible.

"Take that gag out of his mouth!" The red-headed cab driver ordered and one of the men roughly reached under the hood and quickly did as he was told.

"Now, where is DiNozzo? Something funny's going on and the boss want's answers. Now! Where is he?"

Tony knew he'd probably get rapped in the mouth again but he had no other answer.

"I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE IS!" Tony yelled.

"I've been locked up all night in that crappy dump, remember? I haven't been out of your sight. If he's disappeared it's par for the course for him and don't say I didn't warn your boss! Now, I got your money and like you said, nobody's been hurt. Why don't you just let me go?"

No answer. "Hey, anybody there?"

Tony was starting to get a bad feeling especially when the wet gag was suddenly reintroduced into his mouth and the vehicle picked up speed. He got the impression they were heading away from the decrepit warehouse going south on the freeway and towards a State Park he knew, a vast area large enough to hide his dead body.

He had gotten his hands loose enough that when the time came, he could reach the gun he'd stolen and since they weren't expecting it, he could probably take two of them out quickly. That, of course, depended on them being alone but realistically, another car had to be following them just to provide a ride back for the men once they got rid of him and set fire to the cab. Great. He'd been in the business too long that he could predict what the bad guys were going to do next. Tony only wished he could predict what his team was up to.

An hour later they arrived at their destination and Tony got ready. He was urged out of the cab and encouraged to start walking by a gun pressed into his back. He was still blindfolded and had to rely on the guy in front of him not to lead him over a precipice or to stumble down a crevasse but then again, maybe that was their intent. It was eerily quiet except for the birds who squawked at them in discontent as they went by.

Tony felt calm, not too anxious. They were going to murder him in cold blood out in the middle of nowhere and granted, it was not a bad place to breathe his last, the middle of the forest, but still, here and now, he wasn't ready to die. So if not him, the other men with him were going to give their lives as a sacrifice to the tree god's, and he would feel no regret at being their executioner.

Tony purposely stumbled over the forest undergrowth and further loosened his hands. Suddenly he was forced to a stop and turned around. The bag and gag were swiftly removed and he stood facing the cab driver who he suddenly realized had to be the hit-man for this gang of criminals.

"You don't have to do this, Mr Mahatma," said Tony.

"Oh, but I do," the assassin had an ugly smile as though he enjoyed his job tremendously, taking a life indiscriminately. "And my name's not Mahatma."

"Go figure," said Tony smartly.

"The boss has to teach others a lesson that no one can mess with him and get away with it especially trash like your father." The cab driver reached into his jacket and pulled a gun from his shoulder holster.

"What, no cigarette, a last meal? No last words?" Tony quipped as he braced himself.

"Yeah, I'll grant you a few more last words, Mr Smart guy." The hit-man stated, as he cocked the gun and aimed. "So, what are they?"

"NCIS, FBI! Drop your weapons!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Beta: Mike91848. So all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

A/N: Fred, you caught my mistake. Tim is working on it but he is still a little chubby in this AU.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Twelve, The tongue, mightier than...most things

Previously on NCIS

"Yeah, I'll grant you a few more last words, Mr Smart guy," the hit-man snarled, as he cocked the gun and aimed. "So, what are they?"

"NCIS, FBI! Drop your weapons!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The professional killer turned swiftly at the raised voices behind and around him and for the first time in a long time was thoroughly caught by shocked surprise. Being the helpless, vulnerable victim on the bad end of a monumental amount of guns pointed at him was unfathomable.

This could not be! How...? How had they found them? He quickly turned back to face the man he knew had to be responsible for his plight and almost dropped his gun at what faced him. Tony DiNozzo stood with feet apart, a piece of rope on the ground at his feet. He held a gun in his right hand braced with his left and pointed at a spot right between the hit-man's blue eyes.

How...where had the gun come from?

"Surprised, Jackass?" Tony scoffed, gun never wavering. "Well, guess what? Your every move since you joined this fiasco has been observed and followed. So I guess you could say it's your turn for some last words and if you don't drop your gun, it will be your ultimate last words! Drop it, now! I won't tell you again!" Tony was completely focused on his target, anything else going on around him was secondary.

The hit-man knew by the determined glare in his former prisoner's eyes that if he made the wrong choice he was going to repay him in kind for what he had intended to do to him, kill him.

"Well?!" Said Tony, as the man didn't lower his gun and seemed to have lost the nature of speech as his mouth moved but no words came out.

There was still yelling, drop your weapons, but it was as though Tony and the killer were the only ones there as they stared each other down. There was too much at stake and neither willing to give up as they pointed their guns. Closely watching for a sign, Tony saw the subtle stiffening of the hit-man's shoulders and he knew exactly when the man decided he was not going to rot in a jail cell.

"Damn you!" Yelled the phony cab driver in hopeless fury, finally finding his voice. He knew his fate was sealed as he pulled the trigger one last time and he didn't hear, see or say anything else after that as bullets tore into his body and he was dead before he hit the ground.

When the shooting was over several men lay dead on the verdant forest floor; the assassin and one of his men. That man, a three-time looser, also preferred suicide by cop rather than life in prison without parole.

The other four men were on their knees with their hands cuffed behind their backs. One of the agents, dressed in a bullet-proof vest, broke away from the huddle and swarm of law enforcement and came storming over to Tony who was sitting on a log, his arm being attended to by a medic. This man was the same bedraggled-looking guy who had been begging Tony for a dollar for a cup of coffee, some many hours ago.

Gruffly, the man asked, "DiNozzo, you okay?"

Tony looked up at him and replied acidly, "Well if you're not talking about the gut-wrenching pain of having to wear this burlap blue shirt, then I'm fine, Boss, it's just a scratch. And by the way, what took you so long?"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Hours ago

"Fornell!" Sacks had rushed into his boss' office urgently. "We've got something on DiNozzo, possibly who took him and why!"

Fornell reached for his phone. "Give me an address. I'll notify Gibbs we've got a lead then you can fill me in."

"Wait! We can't, not yet." And Ron rubbed at his face in obvious frustration.

Fornell hung up the phone in exasperation. "What's going on, Ron? You said you found DiNozzo, then where is he?"

"I said possibly who took him and why but not where he is, not yet."

"What the hell, Sacks!" Fornell's irritation was obvious, which only heightened Sacks feelings of ineptitude.

"Fornell, I just got this info a second ago!" Sacks snapped back before he could rein himself in. He took a deep inhale of breath to get his anger under control. The FBI agent wouldn't admit out loud to anyone but he was grateful for the anger management classes he had been mandated to take to keep his job.

His out-of-control temper had caused him problems before and almost cost him his marriage and his job. It had him accusing DiNozzo in the past of murder on what he thought was solid evidence. He had gone after the man with a vengeance under the mistaken belief that the NCIS agent was a serial killer mass murderer. His pursuit of DiNozzo was well documented in his personnel file including his conclusions that had been proven abysmally wrong, at least for him. Fortunately, the agency was able to overlook his bad judgment only because DiNozzo hadn't sued them for false arrest and harassment.

Now, after spending some time with the other agent from their sister agency, Sacks realized that they were more alike than not. He acted out by losing his temper and DiNozzo acted out by playing the fool, which seemed ironically to work better for Tony than blowing his top had ever worked for Sacks. He and DiNozzo had buried the hatchet and Sacks had nothing against the agent and wanted to help in getting him back. No need to get his ire up at Fornell because his boss was worried too.

Anger management 101 now firmly under his belt, Sacks could give his report to Fornell that would not leave a bitter taste in either of their mouths. And Fornell could see the effort he was making to keep his cool so he sat back to listen.

"Okay. What we've got so far is Agents Boone and Fryer are following up on the lead right now. Boone's snitch came through and if it's true, well, we've been trying to get this guy for money laundering and murder, among other things for a long time. Samuel de Franco, ring a bell, also known as Big Sammy in his younger days? Now he's a suspected crime boss pretending to be a legitimate businessman."

"What the hell does he have to do with Tony DiNozzo?" Questioned Fornell as he belatedly indicated to Sacks to find a seat.

Sacks shoved some papers aside for the hidden chair, sat and leaned forward. "That's just it, Fornell. It's not Tony, it's Anthony DiNozzo, Senior. Fortunately, we still had Senior under surveillance when he tried to drink the local bar dry. He didn't mention names but bragged about getting back at his son and something jumbled about hoping he liked his warehouse, 5-star accommodations for the night. Said his two-bit son was in the money and he was going to pay off some debts he owed to de Franco for him then Senior would be leaving the Country for a warmer climate on Tony's nickel. This ties in nicely with this guy de Franco and Senior being business partners.

"They go way back as partners and most of their business is shoddy get-rich-quick schemes. But what ties it in right now is there's talk of a big real estate deal in Saint Martin involving a hotel and casino."

"Saint Martin? In the Caribbean?" Fornell didn't look surprised, he could picture the balmy breezes and sun-cooked sand.

"Yeah, warmer climate for sure. It's obvious Senior knows what's going on and knows that his son has been kidnapped. The guy creeps me out." Sacks spoke in utter contempt for a lousy father figure. "We need to pick him up, Fornell."

Fornell nodded in agreement, "Get a warrant, fast! I'll call Gibbs."

"Boone's standing by at the judge's chambers," said Sacks as he reached for his cell phone.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

McGee and Ziva sat in the bull pen waiting impatiently for Gibbs and Fornell to return from Vance's office.

"What is going on now that we will be the last to hear about it?" grumbled Ziva about not being in the know, again. "I am camping at the bites, McGee, and do not appreciate being left out. We are a team, no?"

"I know, Ziva." More than ever, what Tim knew was that he was tired of Ziva's complaints anytime she felt she was being excluded in something or another. This time was no different but why complain to him about it. He wasn't in the know, either, but he had the feeling she felt he was inferior in status to her job-wise and experience and lowest on the totem pole even though he had seniority. He, therefore, didn't need to know. Her skewed thinking had it that she on the other hand should be sitting at Gibbs' right hand.

Well, McGee had news for her and he thought this a little spitefully. She was right there on the same rung on that same pole as he and she'd have to step on Tony's head to get any higher and climb over Gibbs' dead body before that would happen. Too bad she couldn't figure that out for herself.

Ziva kept glaring up the stairs where Gibbs and Fornell had just disappeared. And although he had promised himself never to correct her misuse of idioms again after being threatened death with a paper clip once too often, he couldn't help himself this time, either.

"And it's 'chomping at the bits', Ziva, not camping at the bites."

As expected, she turned on him with a tight-lipped, unpleasant expression. His inference that she was again a misuser of their silly American hybrid English dialect was infuriating.

"McGee, I have told you before..."

McGee interrupted quickly before the threats started again. "From what the FBI got out of Senior, Tony's supposed to be dropped off some blocks south of the bank's location and then he's to walk the rest of the way to the bank."

"I know that, McGee, and our part in this operation? When will we be informed? Also, I do not mean to sound critical but surely Tony should have been more successful at finding a way of escaping his captors unless he is hurt, which seems unlikely if he is to walk several blocks to the bank.

Sure, you don't sound critical, Ziva. Tim thought almost pityingly. He tried to keep his expression neutral but he was puzzled at her caustic step backward into passive hostility that had been missing, and he had hoped gone, for a short time. What had set her off again, she was so angry all the time?

"Surely you agree, Tim, that Tony is again acting as dead weight needing rescue. Why do we not just locate this warehouse where he is reported to be kept and rescue him instead of..."

"Instead of what, David?" Gibbs had come down the stairs with Fornell and Ziva had to have seen him coming even though she did not try to censure her remarks. She wisely remained silent at the unspoken criticism from Gibbs. Nonetheless, she had gotten her point across.

Gibbs continued on to his desk and answered her unfinished question. "We're working in conjunction with the FBI's pursuit of Sam de Franco and his whole organization who has kidnapped a Federal Agent. DiNozzo's in the right place at the right time to take this scumbag down. That's why, Ziva, we're not going in with guns blazing." Gibbs voice indicated his irritation. Surely she should know this. Ziva was returning to her old ways again with sharp words and aggressiveness especially in DiNozzo's case but he didn't have time to address it now.

"This is the plan, listen up. First, we're keeping Senior under wraps so he can't talk to or warn anybody. Since he hinted at a robbery being held at the bank today, we're taking the threat seriously. Tim, you and I will be covering the five blocks south of the bank, which should be the logical route if Tony's being dropped off to walk. Fornell will have the area north covered as well. Fornell?"

"I'm going to bump into DiNozzo while crossing the street and place a GPS locator on him and if I have the time, slip a listening device on him too. A gun will be available to him also if he's quick enough on the uptake, which I'm counting on. We're replacing the bank staff and customers with FBI agents except for the senior exec Kravitch who'll be handling the money, and who the perps might get suspicious if he's not there. Sacks will be the armed guard inside the bank."

"And my duty, Gibbs?" questioned Ziva.

Gibbs turned to the Liaison officer. "You're the bank teller, Ziva. DiNozzo will have to sign forms before he can get the money, that's standard operating procedure in case anyone is looking."

"Yeah," Fornell jumped in. "And leave a couple of short messages on the signature lines, tell him we want him to go along with their demands. Nothing fancy, just 'stay with the program' kind of thing. You got it?"

When Ziva nodded she understood, Fornell went on. "In case you're wondering, we're hoping we'll finally get de Franco whose been on FBI's unofficial most wanted list for a decade; unofficial due to a lack of any concrete evidence of his criminal activities we could take to court, that is," clarified Fornell.

Gibbs got up from his desk to approach Ziva. "Find some place on those forms he has to sign to tell him to do what they say, we've got his six."

"Very well." Ziva replied without inflection.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The plan went off as expected. Gibbs made first contact as a beggar and after scrutinizing DiNozzo closely and taking into account his bruised face, he concluded the agent appeared fit for duty. One nod of DiNozzo's head confirmed his assessment, Tony'd finished this to the bitter end, so Gibbs doubted he could have pulled him away, anyway.

Fornell bumped into Tony as planned and was able to plant the GPS, but the whole song and dance routine went down so fast that other than both of them falling down in the gutter to grapple for more time, Fornell didn't know if the listening device had been properly activated or not. Tony got the gun, though, smart guy.

It was decided to try and get a message to Tony regarding the people in the bank so that if anything went down he would know that he was surrounded by armed Federal agents who could take care of themselves; no hostage situation for him to worry about.

To that effect, McGee at the hotdog cart made up a sign that was so obvious, to him at least, that Tony would have to be an imbecile not to decipher it's meaning. As a matter of fact, Tony had spent a very long, tedious hour one evening after work over beer and burgers regaling this same idea to both him and Palmer.

An idea Tony had gotten from some movie or another about a code for trading hostages, one hostage for one agent. In this case it would be one bank employee for one agent, an even exchange hence the hotdog sign proclaimed proudly, 'bargain days, one fifty for one, two for three'. It made sense to Tim who thought the idea pretty clever on Tony's part though Gibbs looked at it blankly and Ziva didn't quite say 'idiot' in Hebrew out loud, though the word sounded a lot like idiot in English as well.

Sacks balked at being the undercover bank guard but he wanted in on the op and that was the only position not covered. He couldn't help fidgeting and adjusting the ill fitting uniform jacket over his bullet-proof vest until Fornell told him in no uncertain terms through the earbud to suck it up or ship out.

Tony read the message from Ziva, who had written it on the paperwork he was supposed to be signing to get his money, that he should continue the 'sting' operation the FBI was engaged in. 'We will try to follow your crumbs, please do not make your footsteps backwards.'

What the...that nonsensical message didn't offer him even a few crumbs of comfort since he couldn't figure out what exactly the hell it meant. Was it a code for backup, backslide, backtrack, back step? Tony was amazed that Gibbs would leave it up to Ziva to relay a message, one that even he couldn't figure out. Problem was, he didn't have ages to ponder on it for time was flying so he just took his money, looked at the message one last time in disgust, said goodbye to the ever irascible Ziva and left.

In the purloined taxicab he spoke out loud the name of the real cabdriver, the physical appearance of the phony cab driver, the name of the pastry truck, the briefcase full of marked money that was taken from him by two thugs and hoped sarcastically that the listening device Fornell had placed on his person was working and that that was enough crumbs for the agents to follow up on and not some backwards footsteps crapiola.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The present

'What took you so long, Boss?'

"What took us so long? We got here in plenty of time, DiNozzo, you're alive aren't you? And let the medic be the judge if that's just a scratch, then Ducky can take a look at it, too." Gibbs warned.

Gibbs studied his SFA closely for any signs of pending coma or death. The agent looked a little more rough around the edges than the last time he'd seen him and now sported a fresh wound to his left forearm but he looked like he'd survive this latest ordeal.

Tony gave Gibbs a sour look but didn't make any objections for the moment as he eyed the big needle ready to stitch up his flesh wound.

"Hey, just use a butterfly bandage on it, it doesn't need to be sewn up," Tony protested plaintively in a high, squeaky voice. The bullet had struck his left forearm at just the right angle causing a superficial furrowed wound and minimal blood loss.

"True, but this'll hold it closed better," the medic soothed after spraying the arm with anesthetic. "Four stitches and we're done," he droned on while still working.

"Do not be such a baby, Tony," Ziva scolded out of the blue. She had hustled one of the prisoner's off to the waiting FBI van and than slipped silently through the forest to stand beside Gibbs.

Tony just glared at her and the medic with his upbeat tone, gritted his teeth and waited for the ordeal to be over. Afterward, the medic warned Tony to see his own doctor for an antibiotic or if there was any sign of infection.

Just then, Tim trotted over loaded down with a box containing scene evidence; plastic and paper bags labeled and sealed, mostly knives and guns the perps had been carrying. Dexterously, he pulled two bottles of water from his jacket pockets and after twisting the cap off one bottle handed both over to Tony.

"Ziva said you signed your name, 'Water River Agua, Junior', so I figured that meant you were thirsty so...here you go."

"Ah, thank you, thank you. You're a life savior, man, thank you." Tony said in between gulps of water.

"You're welcome, Tony. There's more where..."

"Get back to work, McGee. You too, David. You can give him a fire hydrant when we're done here," ordered Gibbs.

"Right, Boss, fire hy...talk to you later, Tony." Tim headed for the jeep they had managed to get into the denseness of forest growth and placed his evidence in the trunk. Ziva slipped as silently away as she had come.

As Gibbs waited for the medic to finish up, he saw again in his mind's eye the moment when the gunman yelled a profanity then raised his weapon to shoot. He saw Tony fire just a second later and flinch as the perp's bullet struck him. He heard again the machine gun rat-a-tat-tat sound of many weapons, including his own, being fired at once into the gunman's body. Gibbs wondered about DiNozzo's nine cat lives and how many were left.

The takedown went as well as could be expected. Taking lives with two men dead was nothing to tell mother about but at least none of the good guys had been injured. Fornell wanted Sam de Franco, one of the FBI's most wanted, but the head honcho had other ideas. The slippery criminal sometimes did the grunge work of killing his enemies but only when it suited him and he had an airtight alibi given by a respectable flunky he had bought that he could call on.

"We got the small fish, let's see which one rolls over first on de Franco." Said Fornell who had joined them along with Sacks.

"What? Kidnapping a Federal Agent isn't enough for the FBI to hold him?" Accused DiNozzo.

"Yeah, we could but...wait, de Franco let you see him, you know he was there, DiNozzo?" Fornell couldn't believe their luck.

"Don't know what de Franco looks like but I could identify the mug of the guy who was in charge. No one called him by name but I could definitely identify him. Just show me a picture of de Franco."

"McGee, pull up de Franco's picture." Ordered Gibbs.

McGee quickly fiddled with his phone and thrust the mug shot of de Franco at Tony.

"Yeah, that's him, I'd recognized that fat face anywhere. The scar in the double chin, the eyes, it's him, the man who was in charge of having me kidnapped and holding me hostage."

"That's proof enough for me." Fornell turned to his subordinate. "Sacks, get a warrant for..."

"Hold on Fornell," said Tony. "You should get a warrant for my father...for Anthony DiNozzo, Senior also. He was there."

"Got it covered, DiNozzo. Gibbs can fill you in." Fornell walked away urgently with Sacks in tow to get started on that warrant.

"What happened, Boss?"

"FBI picked Senior up earlier today." Gibbs told his SFA and gave him all the sordid details of a man who would betray his own son out of hateful avarice.

Tony listened without comment to the bitter end. What no one was saying but it was pretty obvious that de Franco let him see his face because he had no intention of letting him live and...his old man, Senior, knew this. The old man would get what was coming to him this time, and there would be no tears shed on Tony's part.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Friend: Mike91848. I learned a lot from you. Without your input, this chapter probably makes no sense.

Warnings: same as Chapter One, unbata'd

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Thirteen, The nose knows

Previously on NCIS

Carlson got out a message that he needed a little more time, he needs to stay in jail two more days at the most. Something is going down and it's vital he stay there. Forget a mall bombing or planes crashing into buildings, do the words, 'hyper velocity rod bundles', 'space drones', 'THOR,' mean anything to you?"

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Tony rode in the back seat of the car as Gibbs drove them back to the Navy Yard. Ziva seemed to have found her permanent place in the front seat next to Gibbs and Tony couldn't even find issue with it. He was tired from sitting up all night and the stress from being under guard by thugs who could care less about his life, and all he wanted was a shower and bed but he would probably get no sleep to go along with it.

No sleep because, yeah, his old man had hit an all time, rock-bottom low this time and as hard as he tried, there was no escaping the want to have just had a normal loving relationship with a good, hard-working man, the man who had sired him. Wishful thinking as only a dumb jerk could have, which is what would keep him up all night; an impossible dream. But Senior would get what was coming to him this time Tony thought in a head-voice as cold as a frozen slab of dead meat and though he may have a sleepless night or two, there would be no tears shed on Tony's part.

So he did what Ducky said and 'shored up his sagging energy and declining mental acuity' with the enervating bars Tim had thrust at him along with an additional bottle of purified water. Good ole Tim, who sat in the back with him with his enhanced, modified tablet on his lap and his face scrunched up in one-track concentration.

"E-mail from Fornell says they picked up de Franco at his golf club playing in a tournament with several others including a plastic surgeon and the CEO of a medical supply company. Presumably they're his alibi for the day along with the bathing suit beauty contest he judged earlier; all tied up and nice and neat." Said Tim in profound disapproval. "He'll get away with his criminal activities and staging a kidnapping yet again!"

"He's not getting away with anything. Not this time." Vowed Gibbs as he took a turn excessively hard.

"What about Carlson, is he still in prison and the case so far, the Ringold's?" Asked Tony from the back seat. "Fornell must be pissed at having to divert some of his resources to saving my ass."

"Fornell's got nothing to complain about." Gibbs reply was full of sarcasm as he looked into the rear-view mirror at Tony. "We got them further in their case in days then they were able to do in months. They've got Carlson in solitary confinement and he'll be yanked out of that prison in the morning. The FBI figures it's too dangerous to leave him there any longer with the information he was able to obtain." When Gibbs appeared finished talking with his unusual long length of words, Ziva jumped in and spoke to everyone in the car in general but Tony deep down felt her words were aimed at him.

"The Ringold woman and Yonta Carlson remain in a safe house. I was on the detail to transport them there and I must confess, I was somewhat surprised at Mrs Ringold's behavior as she at first appeared a subdued, dull woman. But when she heard that her husband was also in custody, she gave vent to her camouflaged anger by threatening to garrote him in front of witnesses. I believe showing an intent to cause bodily harm to someone in the presence of law enforcement is tantamount to committing the act itself, hence premeditation. Your friend has sharp claws, Tony."

"You can't be arrested for making threats, Ziva, otherwise you'd be serving 99 years to life. What's your real point?" Using irony to mock Ziva was one of Tony's better tools, something he used to tickle his quirky sense of humor especially when she knew what he was doing.

Not unaware of Tony's mockery, Ziva chose to yeast above it. "I do not make threats Tony and I have no point, just an observation." Ziva turned back to smile briefly at him and Tony refused to belabor her comment any further. He now believed she just wanted to get a rise out of him, period, even if just in defense of his friend for reasons unknown except to herself.

Just then, Tim interrupted Tony's thoughts with a low moan of exasperation. "Great! Just great! One of the alerts I set up to monitor prison activity just went off. There was a prison fight, not a riot, thank goodness, Carlson was in solitary confinement but somebody got to him."

"Dead?" Tony uttered softly.

"Not dead, beat up pretty bad and a stab wound, probably a shiv. Still, he held them off, even put one of them down, dead it looks like, until the others backed off and help arrived." Tim sounded impressed.

"Where is he now?" Gibbs questioned as he pressed harder on the accelerator.

"Out of there, finally. Airlifted to a hospital for surgery on his wounds," replied McGee, still clicking on the silent keys. "So assuming this is terrorist threat related, how did they find out? We were careful."

"Yes, I know that Ringold did not get a message out." Ziva responded, confident the man had not been able to make a call before she took him down.

"There was always that risk," Gibbs admitted. "We knew it could happen, we took the chance anyway."

"We wasted a whole day today in rescuing Tony and..."

Gibbs took his eyes off the road to stare her down. "You call covering your partner's six a wasted day, Ziva?"

Ziva glanced over and met Gibbs' blue glare calm and unafraid. "That is not what I meant, Gibbs. Surely you do not believe..."

Tony suddenly broke his unusual silence, not interested in hearing Ziva's excuses when he had something more important on his mind. "That SOB de Franco knew about FBI Director's grandnephews and their mother. Are they safe? I never should have involved her but all I did was pay her a visit and play with the kids. She promised she wouldn't do or say anything to anybody for fear that she'd attract someone's attention. And she didn't, she wouldn't, and yet he targeted her. I can only assume that my father told him but how did He find out?"

"Different mole?" Gibbs pulled into the Yard parking lot and parked.

Yeah, one closer to home. Thought Tony.

"From now on, any discussions related to this case will be in my office or outside the building. No idle chit-chat, even to FBI and not in the bullpen.

McGee raised his eyes from the tablet he had been glued to during the ride back and frowned, unknowingly thinking similar thoughts to Tony's. Not liking where those thoughts were taking him but something didn't smell right and hadn't for a long time. He tried wiping that seed of doubt from his traitorous mind that the only person in the car who seemed to have a convivial relationship with Tony's father was Ziva David.

Sensing Tim's unease but not knowing the cause, and to make up for her earlier comment about wasting time, Ziva jumped right in, appeasing. "The family is safe, Tony. Just as a precaution, Kathy and the little boys are staying with her uncle until this case is resolved."

The team exited the car and headed inside the building. "It's late." Gibbs stated the obvious but everybody was too tired to roll their eyes as they entered the elevator.

On their floor, Gibbs was the first one out. "Write up a preliminary report then go home; be in by 8 to finish up. FBI's got de Franco on hold for tonight, DiNozzo, until they can charge him officially with attempted murder so go home. McGee, you can share what's kept you so fascinated on your I-Doodad thingy to Tony and Ziva while I brief Vance." As he strolled away upstairs, eyes did roll behind Gibbs' back this time over the new designation for McGee's tablet.

"He's right, though, McDoodad, what's going on? You've been grossly attached to your thingy for the last hour, Tim, even for you." Tony said tiredly as he searched for an analgesic in his desk for his sore arm.

"My thingy, DiNozzo?" Tim looked at him briefly in disapproval before turning back to the desk monitor he had switched to. "Carlson's out of surgery in good condition. The FBI's got de Franco locked up, we've got your father and Ringold sitting in cells, the women and children are in safe places. Why do I feel like we're missing something?"

"Because we are missing something, McMemoryloss. The bomb, remember, a big- whomping bomb in the hands of criminals and psychopaths and we're no closer to what's going down than when this whole mess started." Tony sounded mad and McGee wasn't happy either figuring he was blaming him.

"So? What? If you're thinking about blaming me, the way the day went, don't! We had other things on our mind today trying to keep you still breathing and..."

"Oh, so it's come down to that, huh, McGee?" Tony jeered. "Getting back on Ziva David's bandwagon, are we? You think the day was wasted saving my pathetic ass, too, right? Well, if you think that..."

"Children! Please calm down and lower your voices!" The three of them looked over at Dr Mallard who had just stepped off the elevator, and both Tony and Tim realized how ridiculously juvenile they'd just lowered themselves to and how loud they'd been in doing it."

"Sorry, Ducky, my fault. I'm going home. I'll see you guys in the morning." And Tony grabbed his stuff and left quickly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell, Ducky." Said Tim to the older man who was dressed to go outside.

"Well, I could hear your raised voices in the elevator but not most of what was said. Is everything all right?""

"It has been a long day and tempers are short, Ducky, although Gibbs will not like it that Tony left without his preliminary report typed and on his desk." The former assassin sat demurely at her computer as it booted up. She'd watched the escalating argument of her co-workers with interest. Was McGee coming out of his hero-worshiping phase back to the real world. He, too, must have realized the waste of time and inconvenience the day had been redirecting their focus and energy on retrieving Tony rather than literally saving the people of the world from a monstrous weapon geared up and aimed at them.

Tim pressed a few keys on his computer and closed it down, grabbed his belongings and prepared to leave. "Everything's fine, Ducky. If you're ready, I'll walk out with you, just let me get a copy of..."

"Tim, you have not completed your preliminary report, either. I would advise that you stay and do so." Ziva did not look up from her computer as she issued that warning seemingly without thinking and McGee was shocked at her authoritative tone.

Was she now giving him orders? Even Ducky looked at Ziva oddly. Granted, Tim's first humiliating but fleeting reaction was to fall back on old times, sit back down in his chair and start typing at her order, but the thought came and went in a flash and indignation took its place, especially after thinking, what would Tony do? He straightened his back and tightened his jaw. Who did she think she was, the newly appointed Senior Field Agent? That was news to him and to Gibbs, too, he bet, not to mention Tony.

"Excuse me?" Tim said, wanting to make sure he had heard her correctly.

Ziva looked up surprised at the tone of his voice. "I am just saying, your report, McGee. You have not started it and are leaving against Gibbs' order." Her innocent look was cleverly real, on a par with Tony's look when undercover, bland and the truth or lie undeterminable. And he would have been fooled months ago, not anymore. She had given him an order cloaked as a suggestion as though it was her right and he wasn't as easily tricked into gullibility as he had been. His nebbishy geeky persona was on its way out and was never coming back. Oh, he was still geeky but pitifully ineffectual, timid and submissive, those traits had no place in his life.

Ingrained politeness kept his reply mild but firm. "Well pardon me for saying, Ziva, but it's really not any of your business whether I write my report or not." Tim removed a few sheets of paper from the printer while talking and signed his name.

"But just for your information, I wrote my preliminary while riding back to the Navy yard, all it needed was to be printed and signed." He dropped his report on Gibbs' desk and like Tony before him, walked quickly away with a silent but pleased Ducky in tow.

Ziva looked perplexed. What had she said to affront McGee?

NCIS NCIS NCIS

After an uneventful, surprisingly restful night, Tony came in early, finished his report than went to the diner and had pancakes. He'd talked to Fornell this morning and found out that they had de Franco on tape. The man wasn't as smart as he thought he was. He may have had his limo parked blocks away from where he dropped off Tony but surveillance cameras and satellite eye-in-the-sky had randomly picked up his vehicle just before it pulled away from the curb. Clearly a fluke but de Franco was seen through a defective darkened window with his hands around Tony's neck shaking him like a rattle snake shakes its tail. With that evidence and Tony's testimony, de Franco was going away for a long time.

Fornell said when the crime boss was asked about his insider information, de Franco wanted to make a deal. But it was no deal, Fornell said, his crimes were too horrendous for him to be set free from a long prison term. NCIS was going to have to find their own stool pigeon.

By the time Tony got back to the office, Gibbs was there as well as McGee and Ziva.

"Have a good pancake breakfast, Tony?" Ziva drawled smoothly, and out of the corner of her eye saw Tony's wide-eyed look of perplexity. She was aware Tony had come in early, did some useless fooling around, talked utter nonsense to someone and played video games on his cell phone before leaving for an all you can eat fatty, artery clogging breakfast. Or at least that's how she chose to interpret Carol Sutton's gossip.

For her own reasons, Ziva had ferreted out one of the few woman in the building she had found willing to be her friend and who had not shunned her out of jealousy over her abilities and position on the MCRT like most of the other women had. Carol Sutton was her name and she worked as a clerk in the records department. Too bad Ziva always thought of her in derogatory terms though she hid her contempt well. Carol had the misfortune of being head over high heels in love with Tony DiNozzo. The fool of a woman always liked to keep abreast of the Special Agent's every move, inside the building and especially if he left the building on foot.

In Ziva's opinion, any woman who showed such misdirected undying love for a man, especially this man, who did not even know she existed and who paid her the least amount of attention with a quick, fleeting smile and nod, deserved Ziva's contempt and was easy prey to be used. And if a toadbit smidgen of useless trivia about Tony slipped out of Ziva's mouth during their brief coffee break encounters or meet-up's in the ladies room, say, about Tony's father, and how anxious he was to reunite with his son, no one could blame her if this blubber mouth had taken it upon herself to contact Senior and was now on friendly terms with the man.

Ziva never talked about their cases or revealed anything of any importance work related but Carol ate up what she told her about Tony's habits, likes and dislikes. Carol was so pathetic, she hoarded what she knew about Tony to her bosom knowing that that was all the little bit she would ever be able to share of his life. But Ziva had not gauged the extent of Carol's obsession and her excellent snooping investigative skills until Carol had casually mentioned one day Tony's love for three little boys and how he would make an excellent father.

"Three little boys, Carol? How did you...?"

"Oh, I have my ways, too. But you gave me the idea and I'm pretty good at it. As a matter of fact," Carol looked around than continued in a whisper, "I'd gotten that close to Tony one time, I could see the peach lipstick smeared on his lips his floozy date had left when she smashed her lips against his in a so-called passionate kiss that looked more like a hungry gorilla trying to eat his tongue and poor Tony wasn't enjoying it one bit." Carol had said maliciously, her pretty face puckered in distaste. "But don't get me wrong, I'm not a stalker and I don't do it often, after all, I do have a life. And I know you've tried and failed to catch him so you can't mind if I try, right, it's my turn."

"I have tried...?" Ziva almost sputtered and her complexion paled considerably.

"Well, sure, everyone knows that. Actually, there's a bet going on in records about how many failed attempts you've made so far, you know, following him into the men's bathroom and sidling up to him all slinky and he just puts you down. Maybe he just doesn't like you because we all know he likes women, beautiful women, so shallow," she said adoringly, "and you're beautiful, so it must be he just doesn't like you."

Ziva had stopped even pretending to act nonchalant; she was furiously insulted, which this idiot did not even seem to notice, or just didn't care. The nerve...

"But Anthony, Tony's dad, that is, is so anxious and he pressured me a little so I told him about, you know, those boys and Anthony thought I would make a good mother for his grandchildren, so I have his approval to pursue my plans. Do you happen to know if Tony's stored his sperm in a sperm bank, Ziva?"

"...Sperm bank?" Ziva's hand shook and some of her tea splashed onto the table after trying to take a sip to relieve her suddenly dry mouth.

"Of course, I know that Tony will never see me in that romantic way, even though people say I'm attractive but just not in your class, of course, but once I am artificially impregnated with his sperm and carry his children to fruition, he may see me in a different light, don't you think?"

"What...?" Never one to be speechless in shock, nonetheless, Ziva had lost the power of speech.

Carol had continued in her delusion. "Yes, and the most fantastic thing, his father will allow me to raise the children in his mansion in New York, you see, and the children will have every privilege afforded to them as rightful heirs to the DiNozzo empire, but most important, I will have Tony's undivided love and attention."

Carol's eyes glittered with an unholy gleam as she stared off into the upper realm. A dropped piece of cutlery brought Carol's dark eyes back to Ziva and an end to the surreal. Ziva had the wherewithal, just barely, to keep her expression blank but Carol must have caught something because she nudged Ziva rather sharply with her bony elbow and laughed.

"You should see your face, Ziva," said the comely woman, cleverly amused. "Come-on, you're not jealous, are you? You know I'm just kidding, right? A girl can dream her dreams, can't she?"

"Dreams... of course," was all Ziva could manage as they left the coffee shop but Ziva knew when another woman was going after a man. Carol was lying about her dreams. To Carol, this was reality and she was deadly serious.

So, this morning Tony had gone to the diner and Ziva's expression had twisted in disgust for a moment at the idea that the woman had probably groveled along behind Tony like an abandoned, maltreated puppy to spy and drool and to hurry back just to tell her what kind of pancake Tony had for breakfast, blueberry, she'd said, and that she'd just happened to run into him and how they ate their breakfast together. Ziva again wondered if Carol Sutton was not as clueless of Ziva's ill-will feelings towards her as she had thought. Was Carol under the mistaken assumption she would be jealous? Was she, after all, a spiteful, conniving hag, returning dislike for dislike?

"Spying on me again, Ms David?" Tony's voice brought her back away from her sour thoughts of Carol Sutton.

"I, spying? Of course not, Tony. You are more than transparent, no need to spy. There is a drop of syrup on your shirt." There wasn't but he jumped up anyway to hurry to the men's room.

"There's no syrup on his shirt, Ziva, why'd you tell him that?" asked Tim who couldn't help smirking. "Not that I mind, mind you, after all the tricks he's played on us; I think my fingers are still numb from the last encounter with the super glue..."

Ziva tuned Tim out dismissively. Carol Sutton was becoming a problem. Her snooping had gone beyond innocent fun, a way for Ziva to get back at Tony, to assert her own dominance by knowing something he did not. But now, it was a dangerous invasion of the Agents life and any undercover ops he might be participating in. Carol Sutton had been the one to tell Senior about the FBI Director's grandnephews though Ziva did not know how she had attained that information. The conniving Senior had then passed that information on to the hoodlum de Franco. Ziva was still reeling from that artillery shell and hated to admit she was worried about what next, what would Carol do next?

Had Carol somehow found out about their case with the FBI, Agent Carlson, the Ringold's? Would she pass on what she knew to anyone who asked and would she implicate Ziva as her conspirator? This woman had no business working for this agency or any government agency where secrecy was tantamount to security and safety. But Carol was ruled by her fantastical whims and make-believe and had become a threat not only to NCIS but of even greater importance, to Ziva herself; yes, her job and ambitions, her relationship with Gibbs, and the other members of the team was in jeopardy. Her name could not be associated with Carol Sutton's, especially since she had been the one to cater to her delusions and egged her on in her mischief.

Again Ziva's thoughts were interrupted when Gibbs hung up his phone and started issuing orders. "DiNozzo, with me. We're going to interview the Ringold's. McGee, you and Ziva see what you can get out of Senior DiNozzo.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

Not beta'd so all mistakes are mine. Anyone interested in the dubious pleasure of beta-ing for me, please let me know.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

Conundrum, a punning riddle

Death the enemy

Death the betrayer

Death the un-forgiver

Yet

Death the painless rest

Death the sleep secure

Death the forgiveness of sin

RIP Beta Mike91848

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Fourteen, Glassy eyed

Previously on NCIS

Gibbs hung up his phone and started issuing orders. "DiNozzo, with me. We need to be briefed on what Carlson has to say and get an interview with Shane and Peggy Ringold. McGee, you and Ziva see what you can get out of Senior DiNozzo, find out who's been feeding him info."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Mr DiNozzo, you're facing a long prison term if you don't..."

"If I don't what, Agent McGee? You don't have anything on me and frankly, I'm getting a little bit peeved at the continued harassment. What are you trying to get me to confess to? You have nothing better to do then to come after me every time Anthony falls on his face? Haven't you figured out by now that he's a disgrace to his family, your puny organization and the Country, itself? I guess working for this two-bit shoe-shine shop you call NCIS has gone to your collective heads if you think it matters one way or the other what you do, you're nothing..."

Tim listened to the Senior DiNozzo with increasing irritation. That's the way it had gone on for forty five minutes. McGee'd ask a question, Senior responded with scathing comebacks and putdowns. But Senior wasn't as cool and collected as he was pretending to be. Under all that bombastic rhetoric his forehead was moist with sweat and he kept wiping his damp palms on his pants legs under the table. Tim wisely took note of this and that the older man fidgeted and quivered and his heel made a muted staccato on the carpeted floor. In the past, naive McGee would probably not have picked up on Senior's nervousness, just attributed it to, well, nothing out of the ordinary but he was learning. McGee was learning from experts Gibbs and DiNozzo, and to a lesser degree from the Mossad Officer, what signs to look for or a 'tell' to be aware of and he had discerned that Senior knew they had him dead to rights in spite of his objections. Kidnapping. Of his own son along with being part of the conspiracy to commit murder. Yeah, Senior was sweating bullets and McGee was going to keep him unbalanced until he got what he wanted.

McGee looked over quickly at a silent Ziva in puzzlement. She hadn't said more than two sentences during the whole interrogation but sat stoically staring at the agitated older man. Tim pretended to read some papers from the file until Senior ran out of insults.

"And...Mr DiNozzo," Tim continued as though Senior hadn't just wasted ten minutes of their precious time. "Agent DiNozzo identifies you as being involved in his kidnapping and extortion attempt. You were there participating fully. Not under duress Tony stated and you, specifically, threatened him to cooperate. You then turned your back on him and left with the other kidnappers without a backward glance. You're going to jail for that, it's a foregone conclusion."

With thinned lips, Senior asked the question Tim had been waiting for.

"What do you want then?" And for the first time, Senior looked an old man and vulnerable.

"Somebody's been leaking information to you from this office about this office, specifically about Agent DiNozzo and his cases. Who is it? Tell us that and we may be able to cut you a deal."

Senior was the consummate con artist. His quicksilver mood change was blinding. The sneer was back in the blink of an eye and so was the confidence. McGee watched him relax back in his chair with all obvious signs of nervousness gone and he wondered what the magic word or words had been to bring him to this euphoric state, and so quickly.

Tim's eyes never flickered once toward Ziva and again he pummeled his mind to let go of the baseless suspicions that Ziva knew something...he had no proof just a gut feeling and he wasn't about to start relying on his gut a la Gibbs to accuse a co-worker of such treachery.

"Oh, I don't think we're going to have a problem here, McGinney, about getting me a deal. So, I have a proposition." Senior chuckled with inner humor as though he was the one with all the cards up his sleeve.

"It's McGee." Always polite McGee reminded.

"Whatever!" Groused Senior, and rolled up his sleeve impatiently to check his Rolex

"Well?"

Ziva, sitting beside Tim, took a deep breath before she finally joined in the conversation.

"And what is the proposition, Mr DiNozzo?" she asked coldly.

Senior made a production of turning his whole body toward Ziva, sitting up with his hands clasped on the desktop and directing one of his teeth-showing smarmy smiles at her. All that was missing was a gold tooth sparkle and a patch over the right eye.

"Have the charges dropped and I'll hand the person over on a silver platter, name, rank and serial number."

"Not going to happen," interjected Tim with a look of incredulity. Nobody could be that much of an ignoramus.

"Let him speak, Tim!" Ziva snapped roughly. She felt panic starting to rise in her bones and forced the feeling down ruthlessly. He could not harm her. She would deny his words and his words would be unbelieved.

"Carol Sutton." Senior finally revealed as though he was telling the secrets of the universe. "We have become the best of friends and enjoy each other's company. I'm afraid though that she suffers from one faulty aberration and I certainly do encourage it." He said gleefully, "as it benefits me to no end."

"And what would that aberration be, Mr DiNozzo?" Ziva questioned while in the meantime, Tim had been busy on his cell phone.

"Oh ho, ho, lust for Junior, my dear, lust for Junior, although I doubt whether she would be too discerning if we, that is, she and I, had a go at it. After all, I'm still an attractive, relatively youngish older man and I can certainly still perform in bed like a man half my age."

No matter Senior's cultured, refined voice and manners, he was a debauched, old man and the subject matter was still degrading to any woman Tim knew. His timely cell phone beeping a text distracted him enough not to barf his last meal and after reading the text he excused himself and got up to leave. "I need a minute, Ziva," he informed her, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Senior noticed the moue on Ziva's face even she couldn't hide quickly enough and he guessed the reason.

"Don't like being told what to do, do you Officer David, may I call you Ziva?" Senior saw an edge and took advantage of it. "Dearest Carol, lovely woman, not very smart but always so accommodating. Matter of fact, Ziva, she did mention your name a few times in our time together."

Ziva noticed the red light was still on and the recording continued but so apparently did Senior because he continued in a low almost whispering voice filled with innuendo.

"And she is quite talkative and knows so much. Her 'in' as to what goes on in your team would be worth knowing to Agent McGee, enough to get me out of here, don't you think?"

"It matters not to me what this Carol has said, Mr DiNozzo, or that I believe she poses a threat to me or anyone on my team as you are implying."

"Oh, but it should, Ziva," he interrupted. "You see..."

The door opened and Tim returned but didn't sit down. He nodded once to Ziva toward the door and she took the hint, albeit reluctantly, and rose from her chair and turned towards their prisoner. "We shall return, Mr DiNozzo, unless you have something further you wish to say at this time," she challenged.

DiNozzo, Senior narrowed his eyes suspiciously, was he losing his advantage? Talk now, reveal Ms David's culpability or wait to see what the hullabaloo was about?

"Ziva?" McGee's interrupted, his voice sounding loud and impatient to the liaison Officer, though in actuality, he spoke normally. He did, however, open the interrogation room door wide to stand next to it and she did not miss the authoritative power behind that action. Was she misjudging McGee? Was he not still the mild-mannered, easy manipulated co-worker with no spine? Yet, here he was, ordering her about and expecting her to Yes, sir and No, sir him like a baby rookie? Even if her world was about to change and she lost her job, she would not put up with that. Not from him or her other co-worker Tony DiNozzo. They would see her wrath first hand and regret the day they challenged her.

Before Tim could repeat his request that she leave the room, she gathered the file and her pad and pen and stalked towards the door and McGee.

"What is so important that you dragnet me from the room as though I was your subordinate underling, McGee?" Questioned a furious Ziva once the door was closed.

Seemingly unperturbed at her anger, Tim replied, "Drag, Ziva."

"Excuse me?"

"You said dragnet, it's just drag, and I thought you should know that Carol Sutton was working today and Dorneget escorted her here. She's waiting in conference room two. I think she might be able to put some light on what's going on."

"I see, very well." Ziva used a technique she had learned in Mossad to shift away from her anger at McGee and focus on Carol Sutton instead. Could this day get any better?

Carol Sutton stared intently at the door as Ziva and Tim entered the room. Tim was the last to enter but her eyes remained focused on the door even after he closed it as though she was expecting someone else to enter.

"Hi Carol, thanks for coming." McGee started out.

"I thought Tony, I mean, Agent DiNozzo would...oh, never mind. Anyway, it's no problem. As a matter of fact, I was glad to get away for a few, work is kind of slow right now. So what's it all about, Tim? Ziva? Hey, how've you been. Are we up for coffee tomorrow morning, unless you're busy of course?" Friendliness oozed from her wide smile.

Ziva wanted this woman's chatter to cease and desist and for her to just disappear permanently. Unfortunately, Ziva's choices were limited. Things were done differently here in this Country and a quick death with a garrote was frowned upon. Ziva's unrealistic thoughts were interrupted when she looked up into brown eyes framed by brown bangs of straight hair and froze. Brown eyes that were hardly without guile or calculating guts stared back at her and Ziva berated herself for having again judged by outward appearances. She'd been taken in by this sly creatures act of shallow dumbness and mocked herself for being so gullible. Carol and Tony DiNozzo would make a great couple, she thought mockingly, so alike.

"What this is about, Carol, is regarding NCIS security, moles and leaks. We thought you might be able to give us a hand."

"I?" Carol looked truly puzzled. "I am more than willing to help, Tim. But what is it you think I could help you with?"

Tim removed several pictures from the folder he had brought in with him and showed her the one on the top. "Do you know this man." Carol looked at the picture of Anthony DiNozzo, Sr carefully for several seconds longer than Tim thought she should. Was she deciding whether to tell the truth or lie? And why lie?

Looking up at Tim, she replied innocently, "Of course I know him, Tim. That's Anthony DiNozzo, Tony's father. Everybody in the building knows who that is and he's been in my department visiting several times. He's got a business deal going that some of us have invested in. Is that what this is about?"

"This man has been allowed to roam about in this building without supervision, and without my team knowing about it?" McGee tried not to show his shock.

"Well, Tim, he's not roaming about without supervision!" she declared indignantly. "And anyway, he's Tony's father and everyone likes Tony so he can be trusted. Besides, Mr DiNozzo knows people in the building and can get a visitors pass to see them anytime he wants. He can talk to anybody and I know they tell him things because he promises to make them millionaires. I don't know about that, I do believes he lies to suit himself, but it can't hurt to try and I had a few dollars from my savings that I didn't mind investing." She said reasonably although contradicting herself about Senior being trustworthy.

Tim groaned internally. What a mess. There went their case against her. She had cleverly and slyly implicated the whole building as Mr DiNozzo's accomplices and there was no way they could go after her without going after every soul in the building. Not only that, but Ziva was off limits too and his, and he knows Tony's suspicions could not be confirmed. Oh, Senior would go down for his part in Tony's kidnapping but the person who revealed information to him could not be convicted on the evidence they now had.

"I can give you the names of the employees Mr DiNozzo had dealings with, if that would help. Maybe they told him things, I don't know. So many that I guess it would be hard to pinpoint the real culprit and so degrading to the moral of the employees if you went after the wrong people. Don't you think?"

Tim and Ziva eyed her than each other and abruptly got up from their chairs. "Here's pencil and paper, please write down names of those you know were in association with Mr DiNozzo. Knock on the door once you're finished and the guard will let you out. Thanks for your help, Carol."

"Oh, you're welcome, Tim, and please tell Tony I said Hi."

Tim had strode swiftly from the room, Ziva a little slower when Carol called out to her. "Meet me for coffee at the coffee shop tomorrow, Ziva, we have so much to talk about."

The inference was there and Ziva knew this woman was going to want payback for saving her ass and not telling Tim the whole story and her part in it. Unless she could come up with a counter proposal, she would be under Carol's unrelenting greedy thumb for as long as she was at NCIS. That was not going to work for her and Carol would soon find that out!

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Peggy Ringold washed breakfast dishes in an unfamiliar sink, in an unfamiliar kitchen and so, logically, an unfamiliar house and unfamiliar backyard were a given. But in spite of not knowing where she was and not recognizing any of the men supposedly guarding her and Yonta, she was the happiest she had been since she had been made the personal property of Shane Ringold, the length of time she had been married to that deplorable, despicable man.

With great satisfaction, she left the dishes to air dry in the dish rack instead of drying them individually with a pristine dish towel. She left the floor slippery wet with glee and placed the dish cloth haphazardly hanging from the towel rack with joy. It was over, no matter what happened next, she would never go back to Shane Ringold and his malignant possessiveness. His obsessive-compulsive personality disorder that needed to have every drop of liquid the same in every glass, every can of beans precisely stacked, every forced sexual encounter with her, because she could not call it lovemaking, the same until he reached his climax, all of it over and done with.

Her guards told her nothing and she didn't care. Her beloved was in a hospital but he was out of prison, that's all that mattered. She could wait patiently for Tony to show up along with his boss, that Agent Gibbs, and in the mean time, not pick up a speck of dust or crumb of food to her hearts content.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"My mother, is she alright, and Peggy, is she safe?"

"They're safe, Carlson. The FBI picked them up and got them to a safe house. They're fine." Tony stood next to the left side of the hospital bed, Gibbs at the foot as they talked to bruised and beaten Jorge Carlson, who sported a cast on his left arm.

"Good. I briefed Agent Fornel on what I learned in that hellhole. There is an immediate danger, he's calling out the troops. He'd said he catch up with you later, had to act now." Carlson's words were quick and choppy as he leaned back in the bed as his face grimaced in pain."

"You need something for pain," Tony questioned. "I'll get the nurse," and he turned towards the door.

"No." Carlson shook his head in denial and held up an infusion pump for pain in his right hand. "They broke a few ribs but this stuff makes me pass out and I wanted to talk to you first."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Tony with feeling.

"Good, good, I wanted to get that out of the way. If you got what you needed then I have a question for you."

Carlson's facial expression morphed into stark hatred. "Is Shane Ringold still alive?"

"Ringold is still alive, under detention right now." Gibbs said shortly, understanding Carlson's hot anger over the threats to his family and not being able to do anything about it...at the time.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Carlson with grim satisfaction. He said no more as he laid back down and pressed the pain pump. Tony and Gibbs shared a look. They knew, one way or another, Carlson would seek his own revenge against the man who had defiled the woman he loved. They also knew the interview was apparently over when Carlson closed his eyes but they knew he wasn't asleep. As they left the room, Gibbs couldn't help saying, "Revenge isn't always what it's made out to be, Carlson," and with that they quietly left the room and the man to his own thoughts.

NCIS NCIS NCIS


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: no legal rights to NCIS, no money being made.

NOT BETA'D, EACH AND EVERY MISTAKE IS MINE.

Warnings: same as Chapter One

To disgruntled guest reviewer: growing up is hard to do and besides my motto is live a little, have some fun.

DETERMINED TO HOLD

Chapter Fifteen, Ringing revelations

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Gibbs and DiNozzo left Jorge Carlson in the hospital with the promise that his wife and mother would be released from protective custody and brought to see him as soon as the ink was dry.

Back in the office that day, Gibbs was needed in MTAC. Tony quietly sat at his desk going over an addendum report on the latest case. Ziva, likewise, was engrossed in some words on her computer.

"Your father, ahh, DiNozzo Senior, is going to be transferred to county jail, Tony, ten minutes or so." McGee checked his watch. "Last chance to speak to him, if you want." Tim looked at him questionably waiting for a response.

Tony's first reaction was an emphatic, "No way in hell!"

Tim's raised eyebrow gave nothing away; it could have meant anything, surprise, distaste - the Probie was getting better at hiding his thoughts.

"But on the other hand, there is a question I've been wanting him to answer for years. Where is he?"

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"Well, well, well. You realize this is the second, no third time, you've been locked up behind bars since you've been in the area and you do know you won't be getting out this time, right? You're going to die in jail, old man. That being said, I've got a question for you."

Senior just stared at him as he sat on his cot in lockup. A dinner tray placed neatly on the floor was untouched. For the first time, Tony saw an old, defeated man slumped forward with hands clasped in his lap.

At first, Tony thought the other man would not answer he was silent for so long.

But, "what do you want?" eventually came out of Senior's mouth.

Tony stood tall and faced his enemy held behind the bars straight up. "Where is my mother's body?"

Looking genuinely shocked, Senior blinked before raising his voice. "What did you say!?" This was not what he expected.

"Where is my mother's body?" Tony repeated. "I want to bury her properly."

Senior remained seated but lost the slump. He didn't even sneer impatiently when he said, "You know exactly where your mother is buried, the cemetery and even the plot number. What are you talking about?"

"She's not there and you know it. The casket is empty of everything but rocks. Where is she?"

Tony saw the exact moment when Senior thought he should be paying utmost attention to what Tony was saying. Senior stood up and came closer to the bars and almost whispered, "She's not there? How do you know?"

Senior thought the smile Tony blessed him with was most malevolent.

"I was there, remember? Never forgot the screams and the blood."

"She was drunk, she fell down the stairs, of course there was blood, you fool!"

"Yeah, she fell down the stairs. Sure she did, right. I may have been little but I know what I saw. She was drunk but you beat her up, dragged her to her room and a few days later, she disappeared. I came home from school and she was gone."

"I told you it was very sudden, she..."

"No, it was suspicious, old man, and I remembered. When I got old enough, I had her casket dug up and opened. And believe me, when you know the right people, you can have certain things done that the authorities don't have to know about. But you know that, right? I mean, you must have paid Dr Medley a fortune, probably still paying him to keep his mouth shut. I know he had a really high class and costly prostitute mistress and a gambling habit and that's where his money went even though he had a wife and four kids he couldn't buy shoes for much less get through college.

"But anyway, I got a copy of the death certificate Dr Medley signed and surprise, 'heart failure due to accidental fall and alcoholism,' was listed as the causes of death. Explain that and why pretend the body's been buried in a certain place when it hadn't? What's that all about?"

Senior turned and walked a few steps away and remained with his back turned. "So, that's why you've hated me all these years, then, thought I killed your mother? Never would have guessed someone as weak-kneed and so lacking in brains as you and a mama's boy to boot could hold a grudge so long and act on it. Ha, ha, ha, the jokes on you, clever boy. I never cared one way or the other whether you liked me or not you were always such a pest and a nuisance but since you asked, I'll let you in on a whopper of a joke your mother and I played on you. Something to get back at you for crying for your mother ad-nauseam.

"I didn't kill your mother, boy. She walked resolutely away voluntarily and with great enthusiasm, ha, ha...for her freedom to be precise, to get away from me and obviously from you." Senior started laughing harder and didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

When there was a lull, Tony asked, "Well, you got your revenge against me, what else was in it for you, letting her go, I mean?" There had to be something monetary, Tony thought, the man's greed was indisputable and he was right.

"A scam, Anthony, a lucrative scam. Grow up, will you! What do you think it was about!?Money, that's what! She had to pretend to die accidentally, which meant double indemnity for me, a million dollar payoff times two for the insurance fraud. Dr Medley got fifty thousand for the death certificate and to buy his silence and I was a semi-rich man again. Your mother had all the money she inherited and she didn't want any of it, just her new dream life with her patsy lover the pool guy. So I let her go and I got millions in exchange, insurance and all her property and stocks as the grieving widower with a young son. I came away smelling like roses. So you see Anthony, of course there's no body. Your mother's walking around somewhere warm, barefoot and free with some stepbrothers and sisters you don't know about probably. She's been having the time of her life for the past thirty years and I doubt very much if she gave you even one iota of a thought in all those years."

Senior turned back around to face Tony disappointed that his cruel words hadn't had the effect of what he expected and hatefully wanted to see - devastation and loss. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Tony answered quietly. He wasn't surprised as he'd known as much after all he was a good investigator. He had just wanted it confirmed.

Tony watched as Senior sat back down on his hard cot uncaringly with apparently nothing more to say. But when Tony turned to go, Senior spoke out of the blue to give him a few parting last words as though trying to explain the unexplainable. "I would do anything for money. I deserved it, lots of it and wealth and prestige, it was my right and my nature, good or bad. What I couldn't earn, I stole, I bribed, I connived, I cheated, yeah, but I'm not down for the count yet, that'll only happen when I'm dead and gone."

And good riddance! The thought was there before Tony could bridle it.

Senior watched Tony's expression and seemed to read his thoughts. "Or maybe not," he bated sarcastically, "maybe I'll be back from the dead or maybe I'll use my 'get out of jail free' card," and he laughed.

"Come to think of it, hell probably has plenty of residents I could swindle out of... well, something, and I can always take turns haunting you for my pleasure." Tony just stared at him impassively.

Suddenly, Senior sat and slumped forward again, the joking and putdowns forgotten as though it finally dawned on him that this was the real thing. All kidding aside and there'd be no more slippery chances for him to get away. And a son who could care less.

Swindling someone? No high hopes for that anymore. Hell, he'd probably end up dying slow and ignominious locked up in his jail cell of really old age and senility and no one around who would give a damn to change his diaper more than once a day. He turned and watched his son determinedly walk away without any obvious feelings of guilt for his abandonment. The empty realism that was Senior was not often offset by truths but this time, he didn't blame the younger man. He had walked away from his son in worse ways in the past and recently without regret or conscious and what's good for the goose...well, at least goody-two-shoes Junior had picked up something useful from his old man.

Anthony DiNozzo, Sr was just too jaded to give a careful thought after so many years of not caring about his only child and it was too late to start now. But, one word of warning was not going to break his track record and it may give him some brownie points for his next life's worth in the great hell beyond. "Watch out for that hungry man-eating co-worker of yours, Junior. Beautiful Ziva is just like me and she'll rip you ear to ear when, not if, she gets the chance."

Tony didn't pause in his retreat down the corridor lined with mostly empty cells. He took note of his father's dire warning but didn't give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He had gotten his suspicions about his mother confirmed so the information held no surprises. His parents had cheated the system and their son, gotten what they wanted out of it and gone their separate ways and to them he was just collateral damage. So be it!

That this could be, finally, what precipitated the end of his father's presence in his life for good was guiltlessly comforting, and his mother? He wouldn't go looking for her, that phase of his life was over.

Tony heard ugly laughter behind him and as the electronic clang of the closing jail door sealed the irrevocable separation of father and son for good, he didn't look back.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"What, McGee?" Tony answered his phone as he paused before entering the stairwell on his way back to the bullpen.

"Where are you? Gibbs said to get back here ASAP." Said Tim sounding agitated.

"Gibbs doesn't say ASAP, McGee. I'll be there in five."

Tony entered the stairwell and started to ascend the stairs rapidly but he didn't get far before he found himself struggling for his breath.

Not now! Not now! Tony pleaded to his traitorous body as he tried hard to control his breathing. Panic attacks, though he would never admit out loud that he had them, and stress exacerbated his hypersensitive lungs. His pulmonary doctor and the herbalist recommended by Abby jabbered on about spasms in the bronchi and asthmatic stress and chest infections blah, blah, blah. And don't forget exhaustion and just plain bad nourishment for his asthma-like symptoms, but he only ever had them when his father came around.

His stoicism and seeming lack of hurt or any feelings were all that showed on the outside but stowed away on the inside where his figurative heart, soul and mind hid, the mental pain and distress ran deep. His parents were dead to him and he to them. But he was only human though even animals in nature had some things ingrained in them like the need for parental love and family, pack and pride.

He'd seen a documentary once when he was younger about the seven thousand miles migrant flight of an overweight godwits. Instinct, the sun and moon, gravitational pull, magnets, or just plain magic, any or all played a part in the bird arriving safely at its destination. Like the godwits, Tony had had to use his innate capacity for survival to exist on his own and he had and he would again.

He slowed down his breathing by force of will as he bent over and supported himself with his hands on knees and talked himself and his racing heart down. In the long full minutes it took to breathe easily again he got his thoughts firmly placed on the here and now, not thoughts or regrets over the past that he couldn't change anyway. Tony counted down to zero and finally could stand up straight and inhale deeply. He continued up the stairs much more slowly, like an old man, he grumped, and reached his floor.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Six minutes and 29 seconds later, Tony arrived at the bullpen with no visible signs of anything out of place.

"You finished socializing, DiNozzo?" questioned Gibbs glaring at him impatiently.

"Wasn't socializing, Gibbs," he answered shortly, "unless you call a final showdown and last words to my father socializing."

Gibbs didn't look impressed.

"He still breathing?"

"Far as I know."

"Good. Gas the car we need to talk to Shane Ringold."

Tony didn't complain to Gibbs the taskmaster that there were attendants down in the garage whose job it was to gas the fleet of cars and all it took was a simple phone call. Or that gassing the car was a probie thing so I know I'm being punished for being a minute late.

That thought came and went and he realized he didn't care if Gibbs was annoyed or not though he did care that he hadn't been left behind. Somethings were irritants and other things earth shattering. So gassing the car was a mosquito bite compared to being wolfed down by a pack of rabid dogs, the analogy to his father apparent. Tony slipped his inhaler unobtrusively from his top desk drawer before leaving as instructed and heard low laughter coming from the vicinity of Ziva's desk.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The ride to the Hoover building was quick and silent, until it wasn't. "You gonna use that inhaler, DiNozzo?"

"What?" Of all things for Gibbs to ask but of course he had seen the furtive movement earlier in the office. "If I need it, yeah, but I don't."

"Then why bring it? You fit for duty?"

Geez, give it a break! Biting his tongue, Tony held off from snapping back that answer out loud. "It's an empty container, Gibbs. It's been empty for a while. Empty containers are recyclable and can be returned to the pharmacy for them to deal with. Satisfied?" There, that was civil enough. Tony glanced over at Gibbs to see if he was going to be difficult but the man barely shrugged a shoulder as he stared ahead and continued driving.

They arrived without further conversation. A young junior agent at the FBI, helpful and eager, directed them to Fornell's office. Tony remembered when he use to be helpful and eager like that and felt sorry for the poor sap when his eyes were finally opened and the altruistic innocence gradually morphed into the bland suit and tie jadedness of a one-dimensional government agent. And eager to please? Yeah, that would go by the wayside quickly enough by the things he would see just doing his job.

"Fornell will be right here," the young agent said as he left the FBI agents office.

Fornell showed up a few minutes later pushing the door open with his shoulder and carrying a beverage tray and white bag with a Gourmet Donuts logo. "Help yourself," he said indicating the cups of coffee he laid on the desk. The bag was emptied on a paper plate and set on the desk also.

"Can we just get this over with, Fornell?" Surprisingly, it was Tony's impatient request not Gibbs who had a cup of strong black coffee in his hand.

"Just waiting for you, DiNozzo, hold your horses." Fornell said with raised eyebrow. "Ringold made bail, set to be released in an hour when his lawyer gets here. Good luck getting anything else outta him."

"What!" Tony paced a few steps in the small office then gave that up as he knocked into the edge of Fornell's desk and sat down in the lone visitor's chair instead.

"The only thing we've got him on is his wife's assertion that he knew things about the undercover opt our man was on in prison. He blackmailed his wife into staying with him by threatening to expose him to the kingpin inside. He, though, hasn't confirmed or denied anything and his mouthpiece is talking for him. We held him on obstruction of justice overnight but like I said bails been posted."

"Fornell, why'd you dragged us down here for if that's all you've got?" Gibbs pressed.

Fornell eyed him curiously surprised he didn't see this wasn't over yet. "What about Ringold's wife. I thought you might want to have a few words with him before he gets the idea to go after her. She told me she was through with him and either way, she wasn't going back to him. How do you think he's going to take that rejection?"

"Not well," Tony was the first to answer.

"That's what I thought. I'll take you to interrogation, you can go from there."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Shane Ringold sat stiffly in the straight back chair in the FBI's 'best torture suite', he thought sarcastically. He would be having words with Margaret about this shortly, his incarceration and maltreatment and anything else he could blame on her. As a result, punishment would be meted out for her presumptuousness and defiance slowly and with great emphasis.

Nothing had changed and he still had a few outs he could use. For instance, it was his wife's word against his regarding what he might or might not have said or known about her previous lover's activities. More importantly, if she thought she would be leaving him to reunite with her hero lover boyfriend, it wasn't going to happen. No man would want her after a few rounds with a fist to her beautiful face. Just punishment doled out to the unfaithful bit...

The door opened interrupting his musings and dreams of revenge.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Shane Ringold was a free man. "Take the long way to the hotel," he instructed his driver as he sat back in his luxury lined car and savored his brandy from a crystal goblet. He placed his thoughts in order; first thing, deal with his wife Margaret in a most persuasive way, she must literally feel his anger. Then, find out whatever happened to the jailbird - still playing his spy game in jail or beaten to death by another inmate, which was undeniably the best option. His spy at the FBI would know.

He laughed at the comic baboonish antics of Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo as he tried to no avail to get him to talk along with that glaring Gibbs boss of his. What a team. Leave Margaret alone, no way! Don't leave town, laughable. Nothing they said would affect his actions.

Soon enough, they arrived at his destination. He dismissed his driver and whipped out his cell to check with his men stationed in the hotel.

"Anything going on?" he asked as he walked through the 5-star hotel lobby.

"Yes sir, your wife arrived about an hour ago alone and she hasn't come out of her suite since. Housekeeper you hired to keep an eye on her says she's been quiet but won't allow her in the room."

"Good, no mother-in-law, boyfriend, cops or lousy agents showing up?"

"No one, Mr Ringold."

Ringold issued one last order before hanging up."Meet me at the elevator with the room key."

Ringold used his illegally gotten key to enter his wife's rooms quietly. The television droned over the sound of water running in the bathroom. Compulsively, he picked up a discarded jacket lying on the sofa arm and a pair of pumps carelessly tossed on the carpet and placed them neatly in the closet. Such flagrant violations of his orders to be neat and orderly that he had drummed into her had returned. Another thing on his list of things to do to get their life together back to normal.

He fixed himself a stiff drink from the bar and found a comfortable position on the sofa to wait patiently. His wait wasn't long. The water stopped running and shortly, the bathroom door opened. Margaret stepped out clad in a wooly hotel bathrobe, slippers and a white fluffy towel wrapped around her wet hair.

"Darling." He spoke out confidently, assured of his welcome as he saw it.

He was surprised at her reaction as she didn't jump in shock or cower though she couldn't have known he was there.

"Shane. How did you get in here or even know where I was?" Her face scrunched up in that cute way she had that showed perplexity but she had responded matter-of-factly.

It dawned on him that the moment seemed awkward, stilted, but not for her. What was going on? Where was her nervousness and fear of him? And she hadn't moved from the bathroom door. Still, he persisted.

"Never mind that, sweetheart. Come say hello to me properly," he coaxed, extending his right hand out to her.

When she remained standing in place and stared unfazed back at him, his tone changed, becoming menacing. "I said come here, Margaret, now!"

A smile that was more sneer crossed her face. "Come and make me, Shane," she dared.

Was she taunting him, being coy? Taken aback, his uncontrollable fury surfaced. He threw his glass across the room, stood up and stomped to her side.

"What do you think you're doing, Margaret? Disobeying me is not an option for you...," he paused at her beguiling smile that turned his flesh cold.

"There's not going to be any proper hellos now or ever, Shane. You'll be receiving divorce papers by mail in a few days. I suggest you sign them immediately. This farce of a marriage is over and there's nothing you can do about it."

His eyes narrowed, who did she think she was talking to? "Have you forgotten I know all about your lover jailbird, Margaret? A word from me, just a word, and he'll be your dead lover."

"I think you're lying. I'm not afraid of your threats anymore. Jorge and I will be together. The FBI has assured me that..."

"The FBI, ha!"

He took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. That was his preferred prelim to greater punishment for her disobedience and things would get rougher depending on her level of resistance.

"The FBI can't do a damn thing. The minute something happens, I'll know about it! You got that?"

"You're lying..." Still holding her by one arm, he slapped her in the face before she could finish and watched her cheek turn red, her cut lip bleed and tears form in her eyes. Satisfied when she bowed her head in what he thought of as submission he reprimanded her as though she were a child.

"That's the second time you've called me a liar and you know I don't like your talking back to me. Let's get something straight, you'll never get away from me and I'll know every move that bastard makes. You think I'm dumb? That stupid clerk in the FBI Assistant Directors office is getting paid top dollar for information and she hasn't failed me yet." He knew better than to reveal his secrets but he couldn't help bragging to her as he twisted her arm behind her back and pushed her towards the bedroom.

"Now get dressed and pack your things, we're going home!"

He shoved her so hard, she tripped and went down to the carpeted floor. "A clerk, in the directors office? You've been paying her to spy, to leak information about me, about Jorge? That's how you've known...?" her voice trembled.

"Precisely, now GET DRESSED or go naked, your choice!" Drastic measures were called for as she didn't seem inclined to obey him. He leaned down where she was sprawled on the floor to grab her ankle and drag her roughly to the bedroom. His first mistake was not noticing her booted foot and clearly fully clothed body under the long encompassing bathrobe. His second was not ducking when said boot struck a fierce blow to the side of his head. He was cold-cocked no doubt about it as he went down on one knee blurry-eyed and dizzy.

He managed to get up but wished he had stayed down when what felt like a sledgehammer impacted with his rib cage and he felt ribs shift. Karate, she had used Karate on him? When had she learned Karate? He was bent over breathing heavy and managed to get his cellphone from his pocket to call his men when she used a twirl and kick maneuver and knocked the phone out of his hand breaking his wrist. He screamed and fell to the floor writhing in pain. She shoved him on his stomach and jumped on his back. When her arm slid around his neck, he knew he was a dead man.

Her chokehold was perfect. He couldn't breathe and felt his lights going out. Strangely, he could hear every word she growled. "I've been wanting to do this ever since the first time you put your filthy hands on me. You make my skin crawl. Come near me or mine again I'll kill you. Send your people after me or mine, they'll die. Sign those divorce papers, stay out of my life, you'll live. If you get to me, Jorge will torture and then kill you...!"

His hearing left after she started a list of his future torture and his consciousness faded and went out.

He gained consciousness so he wasn't dead but he was in a lot of pain. Deep male voices were what he heard first. Something about how they had gotten the evidence they needed to lock him up for years and who the traitor in the FBI was. He knew he should had kept his mouth shut. "I need an ambulance," he managed.

"Yes you do and one is on its way. After that, you'll be a privileged guest of the state of whatever prison they assign you to."

"DiNozzo, is that you?" Shane's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and he tried sitting up to a wave of dizziness.

"I'd stay put if I were you. You just got your ass kicked by a woman who's in the other room by the way and is deeply inclined to finish the job." Tony came closer, "Just in case that wasn't warning enough, I'm in line to help her finish the job."

Shane heard a commotion at the door, the paramedics had arrived. "Another thing, Ringold, Jorge Carlson is out of prison, his mission there is over. As soon as he's out of his hospital bed, he'll be coming for you. Do you understand jail or no jail, your days are numbered?"

Shane Ringold was a bully and a coward and a small, useless man. He gave up without a fight.

"I got it, okay, I got it! He can have her, she was a lousy wife anyway."

"Good. Take him away boys," Tony told the EMT team. The last thing he saw as he was being wheeled out was Margaret standing with DiNozzo and that beady eyed Gibbs. Her hatred and scorn were evident as she spat in his direction and gave him the finger. He closed his eyes and turned his head away as he heard DiNozzo's hateful laughter.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Next chapter, how to deal with Ziva. Still no fan of hers, so beware Ziva fans.


End file.
